


Battle of Evermore

by SpencerRemyLvr



Series: Nephilim [5]
Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Family, Friendship, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, Slash, Slightly OOC characters, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 91,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/pseuds/SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Free Will starts their hunt for the Horsemen's rings and begin gathering allies to their side. The final battle is coming and everything is going to be put on the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now, I just want to get this out there, as a person that I had read this pointed something out to me – Gabriel might come off as a little ooc to you guys, but I think it’s for logical reasons. With Spencer, we’re seeing a side of him that of course he hasn’t showed to others. It’s going to be a bit softer and kinder, I’d think, like a parent is with their child. Of course he acts different around his kid than he does around others. Keep that in mind if he seems a little off character, s’il vous plait. Merci.
> 
> Also, I've got most of my chapters outlined, but the actual writing may take a bit, so this might have slow updates. But I wanted to go ahead and at least post the first chapter so you all knew I hadn't forgotten about it, and because I write better and faster when I know people are waiting for more lol :D I hope you guys enjoy this!

Spencer Reid stood outside the doors of the BAU bullpen and stared in with a look of trepidation on his face. He really wasn’t looking forward to this. Not just because he knew his friends were going to worry, but because he didn’t like lying to them. For a brief moment he almost wished he’d taken his father up on his offer to come with him. Gabriel had made the offer this morning, just sort of nonchalantly threw it out there as they’d shared breakfast at Gabriel’s current home. With the Winchesters on an easy, simple hunt, and with Castiel out still doing his search for God, Gabriel and Spencer had indulged in the time to enjoy a breakfast together before Spencer had to head to the Bureau. They were just finishing up when Gabriel had casually offered “I could head in with you, if you wanted. Moral support and all that.”

It took almost five minutes for Spencer to stop laughing.

The idea of bringing Gabriel _here_ , to the FBI, was at once both insane and hilarious. Only once before had the archangel ever come here and that had been early on when Spencer first started at the Bureau. Gabriel had wanted to come in and see where Spencer worked and who he was going to be working with. For the next three weeks the whole Bureau had suffered from a rash of juvenile pranks. They weren’t even the well thought out, carefully executed pranks that the Trickster was known for. No, they were childish pranks. The kind that kids pulled on one another and thought were the absolute best. Prank drawers that shot out confetti when opened. Sugar packets replaced with salt. The autocorrect on everyone’s computers suddenly started replacing simple misspelled words with different vulgarities. One guy on the floor, someone who had given Spencer a hard time from the get go for both his looks and his age, had received a delivery in the middle of the bullpen from a gay porn store.

All the pranks had been simple and childish, and they’d provided Spencer without countless hours of amusement, but there was no way he was going to willingly unleash that on anyone right now. The laugh he got from the offer worked wonders, though, and he’d left his Dad’s place with a smile on his face, which had mostly likely been Gabriel’s intention anyways.

Spencer gathered himself and pushed his nerves down as far as he could get them to go. No more procrastinating. It was time to do this. He’d made his decision and he believed firmly that it was the only decision he could make. Now it was time to face up to it. He’d already put this off long enough. Instead of doing it the day he’d made his decision, as he’d planned on, he’d waited through the weekend first. Well, the weekend was over and there was no more putting it off.

The first place that he went to was Strauss. Dealing with her wasn’t difficult at all. Spencer knew how to handle her. Oh, she wasn’t happy, she made sure he knew that. But this wasn’t something she could refuse. He had all his paperwork in order and all the necessary documentation to back up his lie. His ‘cousin’ Jordan was in the end stages of leukemia with no more than six months to live. Dramatic, he knew, but he needed it to be dramatic enough that the Bureau wouldn’t fight him on taking leave, considering the circumstances within the team right now. There was only one more thing that Spencer would need to be in DC for and that was Hayley’s funeral, which was being held tomorrow. That was something that Spencer couldn’t miss.

Once Spencer cleared everything with Strauss, he took on the next step, one that he’d made sure to tell her he wanted to take care of personally—he had to go tell the team. Oh, he could’ve let her do it for him. She would have. He could’ve just said that he needed to go and she would’ve handled telling the team for him without a problem. But they deserved more respect from him than that.

Some kind of word must’ve traveled, though. Maybe someone saw him in the office with Strauss. It couldn’t be the paperwork; Penelope was fast on things like that, but Spencer doubted that Erin had put his paperwork through yet. Whatever it was, the team—minus Aaron, of course, who was still at home with his son, exactly where he should be—were all waiting in the bullpen around Emily’s desk when Spencer came in. Even Penelope was there. They weren’t subtle about the fact that they were waiting for him. All their eyes turned his way when he came in and they watched him walk towards them with varying expressions of worry and remnants of the grief they were all still feeling. They knew something was up they just didn’t know _what_. Spencer gathered up his courage and made his way over to them.

“What happened?” Penelope asked immediately, clutching tightly to the mug of tea she was holding. “Did she have more questions? Are they going to talk to us again?”

It took a second for him to realize what she meant. _Oh._ They thought that he and Strauss had been talking because of the whole Foyet incident. Well, that made sense. He should’ve figured they’d go that route. He shook his head and hurried to reassure her, and the rest of them. “No, no, it had nothing to do with Foyet. I should’ve known word would spread fast. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you guys worry.” Drawing in a breath, Spencer stuffed his hands down in his pockets and prepared to once more lie to his friends, no matter how little he liked it. “I have a family member who’s extremely ill. It’s…it’s cancer, and they’ve given him no more than six months. I was seeing Strauss to arrange the time off to go and be with him.”

“Oh, Reid, not your Mom?” JJ asked, reaching out to take hold of his arm.

Spencer shook his head quickly. “Mom’s fine. It’s a cousin of mine, Jordan. We’re close, he and I, and I don’t want to have to spend what time he has left, alone.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Emily offered. Beside her, Penelope nodded her agreement, adding “Yeah, anything at all.”

Again, he shook his head, needing to take a moment to fight down the nauseous feeling that was sitting in his stomach at these blatant lies. He hoped if anything showed in his voice that they would simply take it as distress over what he was telling them and not his upset at having to lie to the people he cared so much about. “No, thank you. I’ve arranged the time off with Strauss. All I need to do now is go home and pack. I’ll be, um, I’ll stick around for the f-funeral tomorrow.” He stammered slightly over that, but no one called him on it, thankfully.

So far he’d avoided looking at Derek or Dave too much. Dave was a damn good profiler and extremely hard to lie to and Derek knew him better than most anyone in this side of his life. In some ways, he knew Spencer better than anyone but family. He knew his little quirks, some of his tells, things that would give this away for the lie it was. But he couldn’t avoid looking at them anymore. Not when everyone gave him another hug and Dave stepped up to take his turn. Only, once he let go of Spencer, he didn’t pull away but stood there in front of him and told him “You know where to find us if you need us.” Then Dave reached up and curled his hand around the back of Spencer's neck, startling him as he pulled him down to kiss his forehead. He held Spencer still as he locked their eyes together. With that single look he was letting Spencer know that he didn’t believe the story for a single minute, that he knew _something_ was going on, and he was giving Spencer what little strength and support he could without actually calling him on it. “Take care of yourself, Reid.”

“Thanks, Rossi.” Spencer croaked out.

He honestly wasn’t surprised when Derek didn’t hug him. His best friend gave him a searching look before speaking up for the first time since Spencer had come in. “I’ll walk you out, Reid.”

They all knew that meant that he wanted to talk to Spencer away from everyone else. Beyond nervous about it, Spencer bid his friends one final goodbye, promising to see them tomorrow at the funeral, and then he gathered up a few things from his desk that he couldn’t leave behind before he followed Derek out of the bullpen and into their lobby by the elevators. Derek caught his arm once they were out the door and steered him slightly to the side where they would be just out of sight of the bullpen. No one would be able to stare at them here and Spencer was grateful for that. He knew Derek had done that for his benefit. Being the center of attention was not something that Spencer enjoyed.

Once they were safely out of view, Derek stopped and his expression turned serious. Even more serious than it had already been, which was saying quite a lot. “What’s going on, Reid?” He didn’t beat around the bush, simply got straight to the point. He’d recognized something off with Spencer's story, too, only he wasn’t going to let it go like Dave had. Worry swam in his dark eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay as I can be, considering.” Spencer answered, choosing his words carefully.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting strange lately, Reid. Different.”

“What do you mean?”

Derek’s eyes searched his face, watching him carefully for anything that might give him away, anything that might give some kind of clue, and his voice was low and careful. “Just, you’re different. The way you move, the way you carry yourself, even the way you _talk_. You’ve been different, lately. Not yourself. And…I don’t ever remember you telling me about any cousins, or even any aunts or uncles for you to have cousins _from_. So I’ll ask you again—are you okay?”

It didn’t take but a second before Spencer realized what Derek thought was going on here. Realization hit and his eyes went wide with surprise. Then he was hurrying, scrambling to reassure him because this wasn’t what he wanted his friends to think at all. “Oh, no, _no_ Morgan, I’m fine. Really, I am. This isn’t some elaborate cover to hide me being sick, I promise.” Was that what the others thought? Was that why JJ had looked at him the way she had? “You have to let the others know, please, I’m not sick. If I’ve been acting different it’s because I’ve been worried.” That wasn’t even a lie; he _had_ been worried lately. A lot.

His words had Derek looking at him even more intently than before, staring like he was trying to read straight down into him to find out the truth of his words. Whatever he saw must’ve reassured him a little because his shoulders lost some of their tension and his gaze softened the slightest bit. “You’ve had me pretty worried, kid.”

“I’m sorry.” Spencer said honestly. “I didn’t think anyone would notice and I didn’t want to add on to anyone’s worry. Not with…with everything that’s been going on.”

A small smile touched Derek’s lips. “I always notice. I just don’t always call you on it.”

Now that he’d had his initial worries cleared, Derek gave him the hug that he hadn’t before. This was the most that Spencer had been hugged by his friends, and that was counting all the ones he’d gotten after his kidnapping. Normally, they all knew and respected how little he touched. Right now they were all a little raw, though, dealing with their stress and grief, and something else added on top of it had them reacting physically in ways they usually wouldn’t. Spencer knew and understood it so he didn’t complain. Besides which, he found himself wanting the hugs. _Needing_ them. There was a small voice in the back of his mind that kept whispering all the things that could happen while he was gone, either to him or to them. Spencer soaked up those touches and carried them with him as he left the Bureau, trying hard not to wonder if he was ever going to step foot in that building again.

CXCX

The brothers knew not to expect Spencer for a day or two. When he’d come back home to deal with the Bureau, he’d warned them that it might take him a couple days, especially since he had a funeral to attend, though he’d made sure that they knew they could still call on him if they needed. That left Spencer with plenty of time to pack up the things around his house that he needed. He went through his books that night, picking out which ones could stay and which ones he wanted to take with him. Having an eidetic memory didn’t mean that he didn’t need books at all. Despite being able to recall something on his own, sometimes it was just easier to go back to the actual book, or to have the book there to verify that he was remembering it correctly. There were also other things he packed up, things that he didn’t want to just leave here, plus the usual necessities for a trip away from home. Sure, his safe houses had basic stuff, plus he had the ability to transport anything from home to there with just a thought, but he’d lived human long enough that it was habit to do things ‘the slow way’, as his father would put it.

By the time the next day rolled around, Spencer was packed and ready to go, his things already transported out to the safe house the team was sharing. Everything that needed to be done was taken care of. All that was left was the one thing he really wasn’t looking forward to—the funeral.

He dressed himself for it with care and tried to use that time to gather his composure as best as he could. He needed to be calm and in control. Composed. He needed to hide the guilt that still clawed at his insides. As Spencer tied his tie, he reminded himself of everything his father had told him the other night, all the reassurances that he’d given him that this wasn’t actually his fault, that he’d done what he could. Of course, Spencer didn’t believe a word of it, but the memory of the words and the love that had been behind them was enough to help him steady himself. By the time he made his way out of his apartment, he was calmer and had himself under control.

Some of that calm composure vanished underneath a wave of surprise when he got outside and found two people waiting for him.

Gabriel and Castiel stood side by side, leaning against the side of Spencer's car, and both were dressed in black suits. Spencer found himself just standing there for a moment and staring. He’d never seen his father dressed like this before. Any time he’d seen Gabriel in a suit it had always been colorful and extravagant. Something that spoke to his bold personality. Today, the only color was the silver tie. The rest of his suit was black. Still, that wasn’t anywhere near as shocking as Castiel. Not once since he’d met him had Spencer seen the man without his trench coat. Yet here he was, dressed in a tailored black suit with a dark blue shirt underneath and his tie was actually on straight. He looked perfectly put together.

Spencer spoke the first words that came to mind. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You really think we’d make you do this alone, kiddo?” Gabriel asked, his expression almost mocking but his voice oh-so-gentle.

Beside him, Castiel straightened, looking so stiff and proper and yet his wings, visible only to the two with him, rose up and one extended just slightly towards Spencer in a way that was a silent offer of strength and support. “It was my understanding that this is something that is done by family.” There was a slight stumble over the word ‘family’ that wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone else. The idea of family as the Winchesters did it, as Gabriel and Spencer did it, was so foreign to Castiel, yet in so many obvious ways it was also desperately wanted, and he was alternately overjoyed and overwhelmed at being accepted into it. He seemed to take the title of Uncle that Spencer gave him very seriously. Spencer had heard him, once or twice, questioning Dean and even Sam on what exactly an Uncle’s role was in the ‘family unit’. It seemed that this was one of those things that he felt fell into that category.

This was most likely a terrible idea. Taking these two with him to the funeral for Hayley? They didn’t even know her. Spencer hadn’t been that close to her, either. It wasn’t a personal grief that was making this so hard for him. It was his grief at the loss of a life, pain felt for the pain that Aaron was going through and for Jack, and a heavy smattering of guilt. Gabriel knew all that, of course. He’d heard it all the other night when Spencer's grief and guilt had overwhelmed him. He’d helped him through the outpouring of it. That was most likely why he was here now; to make sure that Spencer had all of that under control and to help keep it from building again. And honestly? Spencer was grateful. No matter how terrible an idea it was, he was so very grateful for their presence, and he reached out with his grace to let them both know that. The feel of their grace against his, pumping comfort and love like nothing else ever could, steadied him inside and took away some of the tension he’d been battling. He breathed a little easier when they pulled apart. “Thank you.”

CXCX

When they arrived at the gravesite, there were more than a few strange looks at Spencer's two extra guests. Derek recognized Gabriel from his visit that day at the apartment, but the others had no clue who they were, and now wasn’t the time for it. Neither Gabriel nor Castiel said anything to anyone. They stayed with the rest of the crowd as Spencer walked with the others as one of the pallbearers. When he was done, they immediately moved to join him, standing on either side of him. Castiel stood close, with his usual disregard for personal space, their shoulders and wings brushing together with every small movement. Gabriel discreetly reached down at one point and twined their fingers together. Their support held Spencer up and kept him steady. For the kid who was so used to standing on his own, it was a wonderful thing to have them there to help him get through this.

It wasn’t until the service was over and everyone was gathering at their cars to leave that conversation Spencer knew was coming finally happened. Spencer didn’t plan on attending the wake after this, so he made a point to stand aside and wait for Aaron and Jack to come over so that he could pay his respects before leaving. He wasn’t really surprised when the other members of the team came over to wait with him. JJ came up and greeted him with a hug, which he returned easily, taking the next one from Penelope and then the one from Emily as well.

“Are you coming to the wake?” JJ asked him as she stepped back.

Spencer shook his head, pulling back from his hug with Emily. “No. We’re heading out directly after this. I was just waiting so I could pay my respects to Hotch before I go.” He explained. Seeing the curious way the team was looking at him, he turned himself just a little towards the left where Gabriel and Castiel were standing quietly. “Um, everyone, I’d like you to meet an old family friend, Ki, and my Uncle Cas. Guys, these are my teammates: JJ, Emily, Garcia, Morgan, and Rossi.”

He was glad Castiel didn’t even bat an eye at the introductions. They’d discussed on the car ride over the cover that Spencer lived with here and that Gabriel had and they’d agreed on the one for Castiel. Still, Spencer had already seen more than once that Castiel wasn’t exactly the best at human interactions and he wasn’t quite sure how this whole thing would go. Then again, any awkwardness on his part might actually help sell the fact that they were family. Everyone knew just how awkward Spencer was. Thinking it had Spencer smothering a snort of amusement. Judging by the slight twitch to Gabriel’s lips, he’d heard those thoughts too and was just as amused by them.

Everyone said their ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet you’ and Castiel took each greeting solemnly, returning them in that deep, gravelly voice of his that always startled everyone. Gabriel wore a smile that wasn’t quite his usual smirk, out of respect, and shook each hand offered, though Spencer could see he was privately amused by the entire thing.

The team seemed rather grateful for the distraction that Spencer was providing them with here. Either that or they were just honestly that curious about meeting people connected to their normally shy genius. Especially Castiel. Plenty of looks were traveling back and forth between Castiel and Spencer. It was Derek who voiced what Spencer knew the others had to be thinking. “I didn’t know you had an Uncle, Reid.” If there was a tiny hint of accusation underneath that, Spencer chose to ignore it.

“I can see the resemblance.” Penelope added in, her usual warm smile just slightly dimmer than normal, though that was to be expected.

Her pronouncement had Spencer clearing his throat to fight back the chuckle that wanted to break free. She could see the resemblance? As far as he knew, Spencer had no connection to Castiel’s vessel’s family.

Impish little shit that he was, Gabriel smiled brightly at her and nodded his agreement. “Oh yeah. Two peas in a pod, these ones.” He gestured back to Castiel and Spencer with his thumb.

Spencer caught the very slight wrinkle that built between Castiel’s eyebrows and it didn’t take much to realize why. He leaned towards the angel, lowering his voice in hopes the others wouldn’t hear, and murmured “Two peas in a pod is a way of saying that two things are quite alike.”

Despite his efforts, it appeared that the others heard him. There were a few politely smothered grins and Dave gave them both an amused look before dryly saying “Yeah, I can see the resemblance now, too.” which only served to make the others finally break out with smiles.

Of course, that was the moment that Aaron started to make his way towards them, Jack held in his arms. Remembering where they were was enough to wipe away Spencer's smile. Seeing his friend, seeing how dim his soul was from the heavy cloud of grief and how the grief sat on Jack as well, pushed away any feelings of mirth and brought the guilt and heartache back tenfold. In the back of his mind came that whisper once more, reminding him _You could’ve stopped this. You could’ve blown your cover and flown to the house and stopped Foyet before he killed her._

_That’s enough, Spencer_. Gabriel voice broke in, cutting off his thoughts before they could form any further.            _Don’t start that back up again._

Spencer smothered his sigh and straightened himself up. Absently, he smoothed one hand over his stomach, clearing away the wrinkles in his shirt and battling back the bit of nausea that churned in there. Then he moved forward to try and pay his respects to his friend.

CXCX

If it had been any other situation, there would’ve been countless questions about Spencer's companions. They wouldn’t have gotten out of there so easily without going through some kind of friendly interrogation. But a funeral was no place for anything like that and so once Spencer had paid his respects—Gabriel had offered his condolences as well as Castiel, startling Aaron, who simply accepted it with only one curious look Spencer's direction—the trio made their way back to Spencer's car. It wasn’t any real surprise to Spencer when he found himself being pushed into the backseat and his keys snatched right out of his hand. He didn’t even think of protesting. Right now he probably wouldn’t be the safest driver. His mind was too distracted. He just let himself be led to the backseat and he climbed in, curling himself up near the window.

Saying goodbye to his friends had been bittersweet. They were all under the impression that they would get to see him again in a few months. If Spencer had his way, it would be true, too. But he wasn’t deluding himself into believing it was a guarantee. In the back of his mind, he could even admit sometimes that it wasn’t even _likely_. If he got through this all alive, made it through the final battle with Lucifer and somehow miraculously survived it, he still wouldn’t be out of danger. That would end the big threat for everyone else. For Spencer, that would most likely be just the beginning. Because he might be able to hide now, might be able to keep his presence as a nephilim a secret, but once that final battle came demons and angels alike would know of his existence. They’d know what he was and they would do everything they could to hunt him down to either use him or kill him. Spencer had known that for a while know. He’d come to the realization that night that he’d sat guard over Sam in his hotel room, just after he’d found out he was Lucifer’s vessel. That night Spencer had thought about all of this and he’d come to a few important decisions. Namely—he wasn’t going to let the fear of that moment stop him. He also wasn’t going to just lie down and take it. He was going to try and find a way during all his research to maybe figure out how to mask his presence even out on the battlefield.

If he could cover his power up enough to convince the angels and demons that he was pure angel, or that he was simply a pagan, that would offer him a good measure of protection. If not, there had to be some way to hide his human identity, making him able to retreat to his old life and be safely hidden.

More than anything he wanted to believe he’d be able to do it. However, he wasn’t stupid. He knew the chances were slim to none. This could very well be the last time that he’d ever see any of his friends again. Closing his eyes and resting his head back against the seat, Spencer tried to hold on to the image of them, preserving it in his memory.

At least if anything happened to him, he knew that Gabriel would make sure his team was taken care of. He’d look after them for him.

Coming back to himself, Spencer realized that he’d zoned out a little bit there. The two angels in the front seat were in some sort of hushed discussion that he didn’t bother trying to tune in to and the car was moving down a stretch of road that was a little ways away from the funeral site. He watched the scenery go past and calculated in his head, surprised to realize that they had to have been driving for a good twenty minutes already. “Where are we going?” He asked, sitting up a little.

“At the moment? Nowhere important.” Gabriel answered, smiling at him as Spencer leaned forward and rested his arms on the front seat, putting his face in the middle of them.

“So we’re just driving aimlessly…why?”

“Gabriel felt it would be best to give you time to gather your thoughts before we chose a destination.” Castiel answered.

“Pfft! Don’t listen to Cassie. I just wanted a chance to prank passing motorists.”

Castiel turned with an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. “Do not call me that.”

It took effort for Spencer to smother his snort. The annoyance in Castiel’s tone pretty much guaranteed that Gabriel was going to call him Cassie at every opportunity. Either the younger angel hadn’t known Gabriel well during his time in Heaven, or the archangel had changed quite a bit over the years. Spencer had a feeling it was a bit of both. Either way, it was obvious that Castiel didn’t know how to deal with Gabriel. He didn’t know the little things that made being around him that much easier, one of which was to never let him know just how much something irritated you. That was basically an open invitation for him to do or say it all the time. If it really did bother or upset you, he’d stop, of course. But something that was just an annoyance? Those were the kinds of things the angel-turned-trickster _loved_.

Just as Spencer had expected, Gabriel grinned broadly at Castiel before saying “Sure thing, Cassie.”

Castiel opened his mouth as if to say more only to stop when Spencer put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not worth it, Uncle. You’ll only encourage him.” Spencer told him, shaking his head and giving his father a wry look. “Now, do you actually have a destination in mind, or are we really just driving for the sake of driving?”

“You needed the time.” Gabriel said in one of those moments of honesty and openness that was rarely shown in front of anyone. Then he covered it with one of his usual smirks, flashing a quick look over to Spencer. “Now that you’re all settled, though, I say we drop this baby off at your home base and you two scramble on back to your precious Winchesters. I’ve got meetings of my own to see to.”

Spencer shifted his arms a little so he could better look at his dad’s face. “Meetings? With who?”

“Some friends.” Gabriel answered vaguely. Lifting one hand, he cut off Spencer's next question, snapping his fingers and transporting them car and all to the garage at Spencer's safe house. With the car no longer in motion, somehow turned off even during their transport, Gabriel was free to turn to better face Spencer and smile at him. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll be back soon enough.”

For a moment Spencer just sat there and looked at his father, trying to read the expression on his face, the look in his eyes, anything about him. Unfortunately, it was hard with him. Unlike other angels who either showed no emotion in their vessels, or too much, because they didn’t know how to work the body they were in, Gabriel knew exactly how to work the body he wore. He knew how to control the expressions, make them show just what he wanted. He knew how to control body language. And years of hiding from other angels meant that he was extremely good at controlling his grace and his wings. There was almost no way for Spencer to ever truly read him if he didn’t want to be read. Still, there was something here, something off, and Spencer had learned to trust instinct a long time ago. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

“Oh, little fox.” Reaching up, Gabriel patted his cheek, his expression warm with fond amusement. “There’s loads I’m not telling you.” Drawing his hand back in, he gave one more grin and then was gone with a snap of the fingers.

Spencer stared at the space his father had been and he gave a small shake of his head. He doubted he’d ever be able to say that he truly understood his father. There was no one he loved more, though. Turning, Spencer looked over at Castiel and the two shared a small smile. “Well, should we take his advice and go find our Winchesters?” Spencer asked him. “Or are you off on your hunt for Grandfather again?”

“I think I can spare a little time to check in.” Castiel said.

Before they could fly away, Spencer quickly reached over and put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, stopping him and bringing his full attention to Spencer. The young genius hesitated only briefly before he met Castiel’s eyes head. “Thank you, Uncle. For being there with me today. I know human funerals probably don’t make much sense to you, and I know you had other, better things to be doing, but it…it helped, having you two there. So, thank you.”

Castiel nodded solemnly at him. “You are welcome, Spencer Reid.” The solemn look faded and a small, hesitant smile ghosted over his lips. “I find myself liking this ‘family’ that we are creating here. I’m beginning to understand why it is so important to humans. You all matter to me in ways I didn’t know were possible. It is, strange, and yet nice.”

“You matter to us too, Uncle.” Spencer reassured him. His smile grew a bit devilish and he couldn’t resist teasing just a little. “Let’s just hope you feel that way when you get the chance to meet the rest of the family. Strange will be a calm term for that.”

The surprised look on Castiel’s face made Spencer laugh. Still laughing, he stretched out his wings and flew away before Castiel had a chance to question him.


	2. Chapter 2

When the two flew to the motel room that the Winchesters were staying at, they thought that they’d end up having to wait for a bit for the brothers to arrive. Spencer hadn’t figured to find them both already there, and injured to boot. Sam was lying stretched out on his bed, his shirt dirty and bloody on the floor, and his chest and torso were a mass of bruises with a cut along his right side that had already been stitched up. Dean, looking equally dirty and a little bloody himself, was just pushing carefully up off the side of Sam’s bed when Spencer and Castiel arrived.

The minute they landed, Spencer and Castiel separated, each going to their charge. Castiel moved to Dean without even looking Sam’s direction while Spencer hurried over, eyes only on Sam. “What happened?” Spencer asked.

“Pack of vamps.” Sam answered, his words a little clipped. He was trying to push up on the bed, making like he was going to sit up, and Spencer closed the last bit of distance quickly and put a hand on the center of his chest to hold him down. Sam went still before relaxing back into the bed again. “I’m fine, Spencer. Really. It’s some bruises and stitches, that’s all.”

“That’s all.” Snorting, Spencer carefully seated himself on the edge of the bed, trying not to jostle his charge at all. He kept his hand on Sam’s chest and used that touch to extend a little bit of grace. Looking up through his bangs, he raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t I tell you to call me for anything, Sam? I thought we were past this.”

“Dude, it’s just the usual shit.” Dean said from over by his bed where Castiel was checking him over, rolling his eyes.

With his hand still resting on Sam’s chest, Spencer lifted eyes that had gone slightly golden and shot Dean a wry look. “So you’re telling me that internal bleeding is just a natural and normal part of life and should be left alone, hm?”

“Internal bleeding?” Blinking his surprise, he looked at Spencer's hand and then at Sam’s face. “You said you weren’t that hurt!”

Sam looked just slightly sheepish. “I just thought it was my ribs.”

Spencer drew his hand back and the glow faded from his eyes. “It’s gone now.” Though they didn’t glow gold anymore, there was still a hint of it that flashed in his eyes as he lifted them to glare right at Sam. “I’ve been perfectly respectful so far about the work you do and the risks you take. But I’d appreciate it if you could at least _assist_ my efforts to keep you alive by, I don’t know, _calling for me_ when you’re injured? I understand that you don’t want to rely on help or healing, that you’re used to it not being there, but it is here now. I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

A soft look graced Sam’s features instead of the annoyance that Spencer had expected. The younger Winchester pushed himself up on the bed, not even wincing now that his injuries were gone. Once he was upright he gave Spencer that damn little smile of his that somehow still managed to be sort of shy and sweet despite everything that this man had lived through and was still going through. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I just figured, today of all days I probably shouldn’t bother you.” His eyes darted down to Spencer's clothes and then back up to his face.

Ah. He should’ve figured that. Knowing Sam, it would’ve taken something extreme, an actual life or death situation, for him to interrupt what he knew was going on today.

Realizing it, Spencer sighed and his own expression softened. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam snuck a glance over at his brother and Castiel, who were engaged in some sort of strange staring contest over by the other bed, and then turned back to Spencer. The sympathy in his eyes grew a little stronger. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m all right. It helped, having family there.” Now it was Spencer's turn to look over at Castiel and Dean. One glance had Spencer's lips curving. After a morning that had dealt with loss and grief it felt nice to see these two. He’d heard Sam jokingly complain about their ‘staring’ before, and Spencer agreed that it could be rather awkward sometimes, but he saw more underneath it. Castiel’s grace reached for Dean in a way that it did for nothing else and Dean’s soul reacted to it. There was a definite feel of Castiel all over Dean, anyways. Part of it was simply because Castiel had been the one to pull Dean’s soul from Hell. But the rest of it was tied into that handprint burned into his arm. It connected them enough that any angel who took the time to look would see the ways that Castiel was woven through his charge at a deeper level than would be considered normal. When they were close, when they touched, the grace in Dean was stronger, and his soul’s reaction was stronger as well. It seemed to light up with close proximity to Castiel. Those two were so connected to one another in all the important ways, it was kind of sad to see that they hadn’t connected in other ways.

Lost in thought, Spencer missed whatever it was that Sam said, but he startled back to attention when Dean broke the staring contest to chuckle and run his eyes over Castiel’s form. “He’s right, Cas. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without the trench coat before.”

Castiel dropped his head to look down at himself. “Was this not appropriate?”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Dean hurried to reassure him.

Smothering a smile, Spencer switched to Enochian and called out “ _He was complimenting you, Uncle._ ” Then—because he was beginning to understand that, though he himself was clueless in a lot of social ways, Castiel was like a mixture of a child who didn’t understand and a scientist who was too focused on the logical to notice social things—he added “ _He finds your look aesthetically pleasing. Attractive._ ”

It took all he had not to let out a delighted laugh when he saw a faint hint of color touch Castiel’s cheeks, accompanied by a flare of grace and a twitch of wings that tried to curl in, a sign of embarrassment.

“Hey now, no secret conversations.” Sam said teasingly. He pushed forward on the bed, sliding his legs off the side and turning himself so that he sat beside Spencer, facing the room, and he playfully bumped their shoulders together.

There were still times that Spencer found himself kind of amazed at how easily he fit in with these people. How comfortable he as becoming. Even knowing that he and Dean didn’t exactly get along all of the time and that neither Winchester was very comfortable with having discovered who his father was, there was still a feeling of comfort here. Of fitting in. Something that he hadn’t ever had, well, anywhere. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that these people knew who he really was. He didn’t have to hide it from them. Not himself, not his father, none of it. He didn’t have to keep those secrets. And that—that feeling was one of the greatest. It helped pushed down his pain and his grief and allowed him to actually smile and mean it. “I was just explaining some important, private things to my Uncle. You can’t tell me you and Dean don’t do the same thing.”

“At least we speak English.” Dean pointed out.

Snorting, Spencer turned, dropping his legs down as well so that he was in a pose that mimicked Sam’s. He looked at Dean and arched one eyebrow at him. “As if that matters. Have you ever listened to the two of you? You carry on entire conversations with half-sentences, insults, facial expressions and body language.”

The sound of a very loud _“Sha-zoooooo!_ ” filled the room then and had all of them jumping. Heat flared in Spencer's cheeks when he realized just what that was. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Sure enough there was a text message. He didn’t have to look to know who it was from. There was only one person who would’ve changed their text notification sound to come through as something like _that_. Especially considering that Spencer's phone was still on vibrate. As he unlocked his phone and thumbed open the message, he heard Dean ask “What the _hell_ was that?”

“A German cow.” Spencer said absently. He clicked on the message and ran his eyes over it quickly.

_Ki: Goin to hel, bbs. Stay out of trbl!_

“Cows speak only one language.” Castiel said, his tone that of someone who was trying to politely point out what he saw as obvious. “Even if they spoke German, shazoo is not an actual word in any language that I know.”

Fingers moving over the keys, typing out his reply, Spencer answered him slowly, not really paying attention to the words he was saying. “It’s a reference to a television show my father enjoys. One of the children on there plays with a toy that makes the sound ‘shazoo’ for a cow, claiming it’s a German cow, and Dad found it extremely funny. He likes to mess with my text sounds so it plays that just because he knows it irritates me.”

_SR: Quit typing one handed. Your shorthand is atrocious_

_SR: And quit messing up my text tones! You know I hate trying to figure out how to fix them_

_Ki: Uh – duh?_

Rolling his eyes, Spencer closed his phone and looked back up only to find that everyone was looking at him with varying expressions of amusement and surprise. Dean’s eyebrows were so far up they almost reached his hairline. “Are you kidding me?” He asked. “Gabriel _texts_ you?”

“Yes.” Spencer rolled his eyes again and slipped his phone into his pocket. “He found out how little I liked texting back when I first started at the Bureau and naturally decided that he had to communicate this way with me at the most random intervals.”

“I’m having a hard time with the idea of an archangel _texting_ people.” Sam said with a low laugh.

Amused, Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “He likes it. It allows him to be annoying over long distances.” Slanting a look at Sam, he let his lips curve into a little smirk. “I’d be careful if I were you. You amuse him; you’ll probably start getting them soon, too, if he feels like it. He’s really good at not texting when it’s serious and you need your phone quiet, but during free time he occasionally gets into moods where he’ll bombard your phone with texts. Sometimes it’s of the most idiotic, inane things, while other times he can be surprisingly helpful. Putting your phone on silent or turning it off won’t work, either. He just makes the messages come through anyways, and if you try and silence it he just makes it go off with the most annoying notification he can come up with.”

“All right, bypassing the complete weirdness of that.” Dean said, waving a hand at them like he was clearing something from the air. “Was it something important? Has he found anything?”

“Not that I know of. He was just giving me a heads up that he’s going to be out of contact for a little bit and warning me to stay out of trouble while he’s gone.” Spencer replied. At Dean’s annoyed look, he held up a hand. “I know, Winchester. You want answers. But I can’t give you what I don’t have and he hasn’t told me anything yet. Once I know something, you’ll know something.”

“What exactly is he doing?” Sam was the one to ask that, his tone far more polite than Dean’s would’ve been. “No offence, Spencer, but he hasn’t exactly been all that helpful.”

Spencer shrugged one shoulder almost negligently. “None taken. And I have no idea what it is that he’s doing or planning. Dad, he does his own thing and he does it his way. My best advice is to just plan like he’s not even here—which he’s not. Whatever he’s working on, he’ll bring it to us when _he’s_ ready and not a moment before.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Dean grumbled. “I’d feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what the hell he was up to. He should at least tell us what he’s freaking doing.”

To their surprise, Spencer let out a low laugh and his eyes were bright with amusement. “Winchester, he’s an _Archangel_ , someone who basically only answered to his Father and older brothers. One who ran away from all of that and took up with the pagans, fashioning himself into a being that answered to _no one_. He’s not keeping us out of the loop out of _spite._ Do you really think it even crosses his mind at all to check his plans with you? And he’s definitely not going to check them with me, his child. He’ll tell us when he’s ready and not a moment before. Getting angry with me isn’t going to make it happen any faster.” He added that last bit on because he could see just how frustrated Dean was getting. Tempers were short, he could tell, and was it any wonder? The boys had just come in from taking out some vamps! They were both probably ready to crash and here he was babbling at them.

Putting his hands on his knees, Spencer pushed up to his feet. “Why don’t we talk about this later? The two of you look like you had a rough day. Why don’t you come out to the house and I’ll make you something to eat and then you guys can get some rest before we figure out our next move.” What they were doing was important; however, Spencer's first priority was taking care of his charge, and he’d been able to feel when he healed Sam just how tired he was. His body needed food and sleep. It was a pretty safe bet that Dean needed the same. Tonight, he’d take care of his friends, make sure that they were okay. Tomorrow, they could start on taking care of everything else. Spencer's other obligations were no longer present. He didn’t have a second life that he had to get back to. It was time to turn his full attention to trying to get this done.

CXCX

Plans never end up the way a person wants. Instead of the group meeting that Spencer had planned on for the next day, he found himself traveling with the brothers to go check out a case that Bobby had called and told them about. Apparently there was a case of a young couple who, it appeared, _ate_ one another to death. Stretched out in the backseat of the impala, Spencer looked at the file on the laptop that Sam had handed over to him, his eyes scanning the police report. In all his years at the Bureau, he’d seen some strange things, both human and supernatural. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything like _this_. “This has got to be the strangest case of cannibalism that I’ve ever seen.” He commented, scrolling down the file. “Singer’s right, there’s no doubt it’s supernatural. Something had to fuel them on. Not even drugs could fuel them to continue eating each other this severely. The pain alone would’ve made them stop.”

“You get a lot of cannibalism in your line of work?” Dean asked, sneaking a look in the rearview mirror at him.

Spencer finished what he was reading before closing the lid on the laptop. “More than you’d realize. It’s been strongly prevalent in our histories as well. In some societies, especially tribal societies, cannibalism is actually considered a cultural norm. Ingesting of a person from within the same community is called endocannibalism, often done in a ritual as a part of the grieving process or as a way of guiding the souls of the dead into the bodies of living descendants. Exocannibalism is the consumption of a person from outside the community, usually as a celebration of victory against a rival tribe. Both types of cannibalism can also be fueled by the belief that eating a person's flesh or internal organs will endow the cannibal with some of the characteristics of the deceased. Those stories, of course, lead into takes of the wendigo, which both of you know quite well.”

He stopped his ramble when he saw the amused look that Sam was giving him. Dean snorted and shook his head. “It disturbs me that you know that, Spencer.”

“It was my job to know these kinds of things.” Spencer defended himself. “We’ve had non-supernatural cases at the BAU that dealt with it.”

Dean cut him off rather quickly there. “I don’t even want to know. Let’s just focus on this case, all right? You have no doubt it’s our kind of case?”

“Oh, absolutely. I just, don’t know what.” Sitting up a little more, he handed the laptop forward to Sam once more. “Would you like me to go ahead and go check things out?”

“No, we’re almost there.” Sam said.

Conversation devolved then into all the different types of things that might cause something like this. It was all speculation, of course. They wouldn’t really be able to tell a whole lot of anything until they got a chance to look at the bodies and at the crime scene. They talked it out anyways, though. It kind of reminded Spencer of trips on the jet on the way to a case. Theories were discussed, some shot down and some put on a mental ‘look into’ list. Roles were divvied up, too. Dean was going to go check out the body while Sam, and Spencer, were going to go to the victim’s house. Getting Dean to agree to Spencer going along took a bit of convincing. He seemed to be under the impression that Spencer was going to be like Castiel; there when they needed him, gone when they didn’t. Spencer quickly disabused him of that notion. “Where am I going to go, Winchester?” Spencer asked, arching an eyebrow at him. He folded his arms on the seat and leaned forward just enough to be able to look between the both of them. “I don’t have anything else going on. I’m not out searching for Grandfather like Uncle Cas is. None of my contacts have gotten back to me yet, so I don’t have anyone I need to speak with. Where else would I be but here, helping?”

“We don’t need you screwing this up for us. This is our job and we know what we’re doing.” Dean insisted.

“I’m not trying to imply you don’t. But the job that Sam’s going over there to pretend to do is one that I’ve actually been employed in for quite a few years now. I think I can manage being there with him without messing anything up. If anything, it would cover the both of you if someone starts to question you, seeing as how I have real, honest FBI credentials.” Not that he wanted to have to use them. The last thing he needed was for his team to find out he was working a case while he was supposed to be on leave. That wouldn’t go over well. It really wouldn’t go over well if Strauss found out. He wanted to only use that in extreme circumstances.

His argument convinced Dean, though. Once they reached town and had checked in at the motel, giving them time to change into their FBI suits—Spencer had to smother a snicker at that, more than a little amused at seeing them dressing up this way—and then Dean was off to the coroners and Sam and Spencer headed to the victim’s house.

Sam was much more open to Spencer's help than Dean was. “I don’t really know what it is we’re looking for here, so anything you notice, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Of course.” Spencer agreed easily. He smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, pushing away the wrinkles. He’d dressed for the part as well, putting on a pair of slacks and a dark purple button up with a black tie and sweater vest. The darker colors felt appropriate, still. A private, respectful sort of mourning. “I’ll just take a look around while you speak with whomever is there. You deal with people much better than I do.”

“You don’t seem to do that bad.”

“You haven’t seen me around others yet.” Spencer pointed out.

It ended up that there _was_ someone there at the victim’s apartment when they arrived. A young woman who was Alice’s roommate. She was packing the victim’s, Alice’s, things up, but she welcomed them inside easily enough. Just as he’d said he would, Spencer slid back and took a look around the place while Sam took lead with the girl. He had a really good way with them. This sort of sweet earnestness that made people want to open up to him. It made him easy to talk to. Spencer kept a half an ear on the conversation while he looked around.

“So...you were the one who found the bodies?” Sam asked carefully.

The girl nodded at him as she pulled a picture down off the mantle. “There was blood everywhere...and... other stuff...I think Alice was already dead.”

“But Russell wasn't?”

“I think he was, mostly, except...” she bent down, putting the pictures into a box, and her face twisted a little, “…he was still sort of...chewing a little.”

Ew. Spencer and Sam shared a quick look of disgust over that. Brushing it off, Spencer moved over to the bloodstains in the kitchen, the ones still on the fridge and the floor. It looked like most of it had been washed away already. Blood wasn’t easy to get out, though. There was still enough left for him to see where things had happened at. That, plus the crime scene photos he’d seen, were enough for him to build a pretty accurate mental image of what happened here.

Behind him, he heard Alice’s roommate asking “How do two people even do that--Eat each other to death?”

“That's a really good question.” Sam murmured. He shifted back towards the woman and his voice returned to a more normal sound. “Now, the last few days, did you notice her acting erratically?

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, did she seem...unusually hostile, aggressive?”

“No way.” The girl answered quickly. “Alice never drank, never even swore. She was a nice girl. And I'm talking, like, a nice girl--Like she still had her promise ring, if you know what I mean.”

“She was a virgin?”

That had Spencer's head snapping up. While that might not seem important to others, it could very well be an important clue for them. He pushed up to his feet quietly, watching the girl to read her body language as she answered Sam’s question. There was no dishonesty in her so far.

“No premarital.” The girl answered. She huffed out an almost amused breath. “I used to wonder how she did it. I mean, you know, didn't do it.” A soft smile touched her lips and she bent down, picking up a white stuffed rabbit. She brought it up close to her chest and stroked a hand over its ears, the memories sitting in her eyes, softening her voice. “It was her first date in months. She was so excited.”

Turning, Sam looked back at Spencer, then down at the blood on the ground. “Apparently, they were both pretty excited.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lines taken directly from My Bloody Valentine, and the facts on Cannibalism come from Wikipedia. I know it's an abrupt chapter ending, but it's also the scene ending in the episode, so it seemed like an okay place to me to stop. I hope you guys liked this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lines taken directly from "My Bloody Valentine"

Sam and Spencer brought food back with them when they returned to the motel room. Neither one was surprised to find that Dean was already there. He was seated at the table, feet up and crossed at the ankle, a folder spread out in his lap. He looked up at them as they came inside, Sam carrying the food while Spencer carried drinks. “How’d it go?” Dean asked.

“Um...No EMF, no sulfur.” Sam said, stopping by the table and shrugging a little. “Ghost possession and demonic possession are both probably out.”

“Definitely out.” Spencer countered. He brought the cups over to the table and set one down in front of Dean, passing another to Sam and keeping one to himself. “I didn’t feel anything there.” A look at Sam’s face showed that the younger Winchester hadn’t even thought of that. A hint of a smile touched Spencer's lips. Lifting a finger, he pointed at his own chest. “Part angel, remember? I would’ve sensed it.”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “I keep forgetting that part. You’re more human than the angels I’m used to dealing with. Okay, so apparently, ghost and demonic possession are _definitely_ out.”

The sigh that Dean let out sounded utterly exhausted. “Well, then what, then?” He asked, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Oh, dude!” Dropping his hands, he looked up at them, disgust written all over his features. “At the coroner's—you guys didn't see these bodies. I mean, these two started eating a- and they just... kept going. I mean, their stomachs were full. Like—like...Thanksgiving-dinner full.” Pausing, he snorted. “Talk about co-dependent.”

Shedding his jacket, Sam took the chair across from his brother. “Well...I mean, we got our feelers out. Not much more we can do tonight.”

Leaning against the counter, Spencer watched the two curiously as Sam reached out to take the laptop and turn it around towards himself. “All right. I'm just gonna go through some files. You can go ahead and get going.”

The look of confusion on Dean’s face matched Spencer's. “Sorry?” Dean asked.

“Go ahead.” Sam repeated. “Unleash the kraken. See you tomorrow morning.”

Dean looked back at Spencer with a look that clearly asked what the hell he was talking about. When Spencer only shrugged, he turned back to his brother. “Where am I going?”

“Dean, it's Valentine's day.” Sam said slowly. “Your favorite holiday, remember? I mean, what do you always call it—Uh, unattached drifter Christmas?”

Unattached drifter Christmas? Spencer smothered the amused sound he was going to make and quickly took a drink, avoiding eye contact as Dean shot him a glare over his shoulder. He looked up and away, fighting not to smile. Leave it to Dean to come up with a name like that for what should be a romantic holiday. It fit with the amusing personality that the man had. Only, Dean didn’t look amused by this. He looked, unaffected, really. Almost bored. “Oh, yeah.” Pushing up from his chair, he ignored the drink that Spencer had given him and went to the cooler on the counter, pulling out a beer and popping the cap. “Well... be that as it may...I don't know. Guess I'm not feeling it this year.” He tossed the cap over his shoulder and into the sink, shrugging.

Sam and Spencer both turned incredulous looks on him. “So you're not into bars full of lonely women?” Sam asked slowly.

“Nah, I guess not.” He paused to take a sip of his beer only to freeze at the stare Sam was giving him “What?”

“It’s when a dog doesn't eat—that’s when you know something's really wrong.”

“Remarkably patronizing concern duly noted. Nothing's wrong. We gonna work or what?” Dean growled out. He came back to the table and dropped back down into his chair. Over his head, Sam and Spencer exchanged a worried look. Something was going on here. Spencer just had no idea what it was.

CXCX

Later on the boys ended up back at the coroner’s office. Much to his annoyance, Spencer stayed behind. He understood their reasoning even if he didn’t like it. Playing the agent with them out in the field was one thing—doing it in a police station, in a coroner’s office, was a quick way of potentially having to tell people his name, who he really was, and having it documented. Once it was documented, it could draw some attention their way, people asking why he was working a case instead of doing what he was supposed to be doing. While Spencer might survive that inquiry fine—he was known for coming up with great ways to cover things up—that would bring unwanted attention on the Winchesters and that was the last thing they needed. So, while they went out, he stayed here at the motel and waited.

It was because of all that that he was surprised when Sam’s prayer request came through. In a flash Spencer flew to the morgue where the boys were at, just in time to see Castiel arrive as well. He spared a moment to watch the two with amusement. They were standing just inches apart from one another, their phones still held to their ears. “I’m gonna hang up now.” Castiel said.

“Right.”

Spencer shook his head at them. One of these days those two would wise up. Until then, there were other things to take care of. Moving forward, he stepped up to Sam’s shoulder, making sure to make a little bit of noise so he didn’t startle his friend. “Hey, Sam. What’s going on?”

“Would you take a look at these?” Sam asked, gesturing towards the tubs in front of him. “I’m not sure, but I think…I think those are Enochian marks on there.”

This wasn’t the first time that Spencer had ever been in a morgue. In his years at the Bureau he’d been around dead bodies and their parts multiple times, in varying conditions and states of decay. In fact, he was well known for how he handled himself in a morgue, how calm and controlled he could be compared to the others. It was the reason that Aaron had often sent him there. He could be clinical enough to sometimes catch things that the rest of them might not. Yet for some reason, as he leaned forward to look into the tub that Sam gestured at, Spencer felt his earlier food start to churn in his stomach and he had to swallow rapidly against the knot that rose in his throat.

His hesitance gave time for Castiel to step up. In true angelic disregard for things disgusting, he reached into the tub and picked the heart up in his bare hand without even a flinch, not noticing the three flinches his action caused. One look was all it took for him. “You're right, Sam. These are angelic marks. I imagine you'll find similar marks on the other couples' hearts as well…”

“So, what are they? I mean, what do they mean?” Sam asked.

Spencer's mind was already piecing it together when Castiel answered. “It's a mark of union. This man and woman were intended to mate.”

“Okay, but who put them there?” Dean asked.

Reaching out, Castiel put the heart back into the tub, casually wiping the blood off of his hand on the edge, making Spencer's stomach churn all over again. “Well, your people call them Cupid.”

Surprise echoed off the brothers. They shared a look before Sam asked “A what?”

Castiel went to answer, but this time Spencer beat him to it. “Cupid. They’re a lower level of angel. Cherub, third-class.” His father had told him about them. “There are dozens of Cupids all over the world.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked, looking between Castiel and Spencer. “You mean the little flying fat kid in diapers?”

Confusion marred Castiel’s face and had him furrowing his brow. “They're not incontinent.”

Reaching out, Spencer put a hand on his Uncle’s arm, drawing his attention. “That’s not what he meant. Remind me and I’ll show you later, Uncle.”

“Okay, anyways.” Sam interrupted them, bringing everyone back to the topic at hand. “So, what you're saying…”

“What I'm saying is a Cupid has gone rogue and we have to stop him--before he kills again.” Castiel finished for him.

Life with the Winchesters was never dull, was it? Spencer blew out a careful breath and rubbed a hand over his stomach while he tried to avoid watching everyone packing up the tubs and putting them away. He should’ve known his actions wouldn’t go unnoticed, though. They’d gotten everything put away and Sam was stripping off his gloves when he came over to Spencer, a little worry line building between his eyebrows. “Are you okay, Spencer?”

“Hm?” Looking up, Spencer slowly registered the question and then placed why it was being asked. His eyes dropped back down to the hand that was still rubbing his stomach. “Oh! Yes, I’m fine. Just a little indigestion, I think. I must’ve ate too much earlier.” He’d only had a burger, but that was no matter. Sometimes a little food could mess with someone.

It didn’t look like Sam believed him any more than he believed himself. Spencer was grateful when he didn’t press it. Instead, he said “We’re going to go to a place and see if we can catch this Cupid in action. Why don’t you go ahead and go back to the hotel, see if there’s any information you can find about Cupids or if there’s any record of love gone bad like this before. We’ll take care of this and call you if we need you.”

“I’ll be fine, Sam.” Nausea or no nausea, if they were going up against something, he wasn’t going to just back down and hide out while they handled it. He could hold his own. Dropping his hand, he forced himself to straighten up. It was his job to protect Sam, not the other way around.

CXCX

Castiel took them to a restaurant that he swore would help them to find the Cupid that they needed. It made sense to Spencer, though the brothers argued it. Places like this were, as Castiel put it, a ‘nexus of human reproduction’. Exactly the kind of place that a Cupid would come to. Though, if Spencer had been the one to describe it, he probably wouldn’t have used the word ‘pollinate’ like his Uncle did. Sometimes, watching Castiel talk and interact with the brothers, Spencer got a whole new understanding for what his friends must’ve felt like with him sometimes and his lack of social understanding. He felt a little more gratitude for them for what they’d put up with over the years.

The twisting feeling stayed in Spencer's stomach most of the night. It grew a little when the burger that Dean had ordered finally arrived. He forgot about it as he watched Dean prepare his burger, only to end up setting it down, looking just a bit disgusted. Since when did Dean turn down food? He wasn’t the only one who found that worrisome, especially after earlier. “Wait a minute.” Sam said, watching his brother carefully. “You’re not hungry?”

“No.” Dean answered. At his brother’s strange look, he got a bit defensive. “What? I'm not hungry.”

“Then you're not gonna finish that?” Castiel asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before he reached out and took Dean’s plate. Spencer, Sam and Dean all stared, stunned, as Castiel lifted the burger up. Just as he was about to take a bit, he froze, eyes lifting and drifting off to the side. Spencer felt it at the same time and his eyes lifted as well. At the same time, the two murmured “He’s here.”

Immediately Sam spun around to look. “Where? I don't see anything.”

“There.” Castiel gestured towards a couple a little ways away.

“You mean the same-side-of-the-booth couple over there?” Dean asked.

Putting the burger down, Castiel said “Meet me in the back” and then was gone with a small burst of wind from his wings.

Spencer didn’t give the brothers time to protest. Reaching out, he tapped both their foreheads, transporting them all back to the back room. Dean stumbled, automatically swirling to scowl at Spencer—his dislike of ‘Angel Air’ was well known. Sam, however, recovered much quicker. His eyes were on Castiel, who stood with a hand extended, holding in place something that Spencer knew the two humans couldn’t see. A cupid.

“Cas, where is he?” Sam asked, proving Spencer's thought true.

“I have him tethered.” Castiel answered. He said a few words in Enochian, the power in them thrumming along Spencer's skin, easing a bit of that ache in him. “Manifest yourself.”

Taking a small step back, Spencer drew himself away from them, away from the feeling of grace in the air. He carefully brushed a hand against Sam’s arm. “I’m going to guard the door and make sure no one comes in here.” He murmured lowly, making sure no one else would hear. “It might be best if I wasn’t in here. Shout and I’ll hear you.”

Sam gave him a look of understanding and nodded.

It was easy to slip out the door and shut it behind him. Spencer only caught the low hum of sound behind him through the heavy door. Leaning against the wall by it, he kept a watch on the emotions in the room, Sam’s specifically. Any sign that things were going wrong and he’d go back in there, risk or no risk. The only reason he was out here was on the off chance that this Cupid ended up _not_ being rogue—and really, he had a hard time even imagining any Cupid going rogue, not after the stories his father had told him about them—he didn’t want to risk giving himself away. He could’ve easily warded them from inside the room so that no human came in. This just allowed him that safe escape, even if it did feel slightly cowardly.

The voices in the room grew just a little louder. It sounded like—Dean, maybe? The emotions, however, remained normal, though a touch flustered and embarrassed. Ah. That would do it. Embarrassment was enough to explain why Dean would raise his voice. He tended to get loud with uncomfortable emotions.

Absently scratching at his arm—had he been bitten by a mosquito without realizing it?—he kept them shielded, kept people back, and waited. It didn’t take too long before suddenly the emotions in the room shifted to shock and, in Dean’s case, anger. A second later the door snapped open and Dean came marching out, looking furious. He moved so quickly there was no chance for Spencer to even ask him what was going on. Turning, he watched as Sam came out, taking note of the closed off look on his face. Sam must’ve been able to read Spencer's questions in his expression because he shook his head at him to let him know that now wasn’t the time. Castiel was nowhere in sight.

Silent, Spencer followed after his charge, wondering what on earth a Cupid had managed to do to upset them so much.

CXCX

The ride back to the motel was a quiet one. Spencer sat in the backseat, fingers curled tight in his lap, trying to battle back the sick feeling that the car was giving him. He did his best not to show anything when they arrived, or as they made their way into the room, but as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention, he hurried into the bathroom. For a moment he contemplated flying away to his safe house. Whatever the hell he’d eaten that had upset him earlier was really making his stomach churn. Maybe he was getting sick. Though rare, nephilim did get sick. Especially ones who suppressed their grace as much as he did. Colds just caused different sorts of reactions. Instead of a fever, his temperature would drop. Body aches, not so much, but his wings would ache like crazy. Sometimes he, for lack of a better word, would end up _molting_.

Spencer carefully shut the door behind him and tried to focus on breathing evenly. _This isn’t a cold_ , his mind told him. His wings pressed in close against his back as he fought off the urge to curl them around himself.

Pressing a hand against his stomach, Spencer curled his other hand over the edge of the sink and tried to breathe. _No, no, I don’t have time for this. Not now, please! Not now!_ His pleas went unheeded. Little itches like bugs scurried around underneath his skin and a light sheen of sweat broke out. When he looked in the mirror he saw that familiar look on his face that had his stomach clenching even more. That was a look he’d seen in the mirror countless times before and had hoped to never have to see again. _Need_ was written there in every line. He hadn’t been hit by this strong of a craving since he’d first initially quit the Dilaudid. Why was it coming back now?

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been in there. The sound of knuckles rapping on the door startled him so badly he actually jumped. They were followed by Sam’s voice, threaded through with worry that he was obviously trying and failing not to show. “Hey, Spencer, the coroner’s office just called. I guess there was another body, so I’m going down there to talk with them. You want to come with me?”

_Yes,_ his grace insisted. His mind knew better. There was no way he could work like this. Forcing his voice as steady as he could managed, he called back “No, no, you go ahead.”

Somehow he held out until after he heard the door shut behind Sam. Only then did he walk out of the bathroom. He was surprised to find that Dean was still there, sitting on the bed and drinking a beer. “I thought you’d be with Sam.” Spencer blurted out.

Dean arched an eyebrow at him. “He can handle himself talking to a coroner. I thought _you’d_ go with him. Wasn’t that the point of you joining up with us? Keeping Sammy safe?”

Any other time and Spencer might’ve risen to that bait easily. Right now, it just wasn’t worth it and he didn’t have the time. “I have some things I need to take care of.” Was all he said, his words short and clipped. Without any other warning, he was gone.

CXCX

None of the tricks Spencer had learned over the years helped him in any way. No form of distraction was enough to take away the _need_ that was, if anything, growing _stronger_ inside of him. He tried distraction techniques, he tried taking a bath to ease the physical symptoms, he tried ‘self-talk’, he tried everything that he’d ever learned at a meeting and _none of it_ was working. With every passing moment it was getting stronger and stronger. It wasn’t just mentally, either. This was as strong a physical craving as any he’d had at the peak of his Dilaudid use. The need for the drug was burning inside of him worse than he’d ever felt before. What the hell was going on? Why did he feel like this? Spencer was on the verge of breaking down and doing the one thing he didn’t want to do—calling his sponsor—when a prayer came through and everything started to make sense.

_“Spencer,”_ Sam’s voice echoed in the back of his mind. “ _I don’t know what’s going on, Dean said you had some stuff to take care of, but we could use you. Cas figured out what we’re up against, here. It’s Famine. The, ah, the Horseman._ ”

Shit! Spencer stood in the middle of his bathroom and closed his eyes tight, trying to control his trembles as he listened to Sam pray.

_“He’s gotten to Cas. I guess his vessel really, really likes red meat. And, um, it’s…it’s gotten to me, too. I had Dean and Cas lock me down here in the bathroom so I won’t go draining any demons, but they need your help, Spencer. They’re going to take on Famine on their own and cut off his ring. Please, could you just, would you go look out for them? I’m fine, I’m locked up. I’ll be okay. But they need you. Please?_ ”

Spencer felt like he was going to be sick and it wasn’t because of the craving this time. No wonder he was having such strong cravings, and no wonder nothing was working to stop them. They were caused by Famine. Nothing short of destroying the Horseman would stop them. Spencer used that knowledge to try and ignore this feeling the best that he could. There was no time for this. Dean and Castiel needed his help. _Sam_ needed his help. Lifting one hand, Spencer waved it over himself, meaning to put on clothes that he’d shed to take the warm bath earlier. Only, when he waved his hand, clothes didn’t appear—something else did.

He knew even before he looked down at his hand just what it was he held.

The syringe and bottle looked so innocent there in his palm. Yet Spencer knew just how dangerous and deadly they were. He’d almost destroyed his life with them once before. If it hadn’t been for his father, he _would_ have. He would’ve destroyed himself without a thought. That was not a road he was going to go down again.

So why was he grabbing his belt from the ground and lifting it up to wrap around his arm like a tourniquet?

He didn’t want to do this. He’d told himself _never again_ and he’d meant it. _Never again_ would he inject that poison into his system. _Never again_ would he put himself on that path. _Never again_ would he put his family and friends through having to deal with that part of him. So many promises that he’d made to himself and to others with just those two words— _never again_.

Yet none of that was enough to stop him now as he prepared the needle.

It was like watching from outside his body. That was how little control he felt he had. The rational part of Spencer, the part of him still untouched by Famine, railed against this. Screamed and begged and fought. But personal conviction wasn’t strong enough to battle against a Horseman. Maybe, if he were at ‘full power’ as Dean put it, maybe then his grace would’ve been strong enough to battle the Horseman’s influence. He wasn’t, though, and he couldn’t fight. He couldn’t stop himself from settling down on the ground against the wall. He couldn’t stop himself from tying off his arm and slipping that needle into his vein. Nor could he stop the addict in him from sighing in relief as he pressed that plunger and sent himself back to a glorious and deadly hell with a dose that would’ve killed a normal man. For a brief moment self-hatred and guilt spiraled through him—Famine may have put him here, but it was his own personal addict that lived inside him that thrilled at this. Then all of it washed away under the rush of the drug.

Spencer's head thumped back against the wall and he sighed happily, everything forgotten in the high that took him. Famine, Sam, Dean, the danger they were in, the whole damn Apocalypse, all of it faded away. There was nothing but him and the high and it was good. It was perfect.

CXCX

_“Spencer, please, please come help!”_

_“Where the hell are you? You son of a bitch, we need you! Sammy needs you!”_

_“Spencer!”_

_“Spencer!”_

_“Help!”_

The prayers circled and swirled around Spencer's head like little whispering butterflies. As he put yet another dose into his arm, he smiled to himself, watching the prayers flap around his head again, listening to the whoosh as they went past. They were saying something, he knew. Something that was—important? He didn’t know. Nothing was really important. Nothing but the needle sending him higher and higher. He didn’t notice when the syringe dropped out of his hand. He didn’t even notice as he slumped over and threw up all over the floor. It was all only distant, barely there. A wisp on the wind that was dancing all around him.

The world was becoming muted. The butterflies were, too. He could still hear them if he listened. Another voice was joining them now. Spencer heard it and smiled sleepily. That was a familiar voice. He’d recognize it anywhere.

“ _Where the hell are you, Fox?”_ It whispered to him. Not a butterfly, this time. This was like the wind itself, twisting around him, trying to grab hold of him only to slip away. “ _Answer me, kiddo. Come on. Just answer me. I can’t find you, you’re too well hidden wherever you are. Just answer me! Dammit, kiddo, c’mon. Where are you?”_

A part of him thought he should answer that. The thought faded before it was even complete.

Spencer floated for a little bit. The world felt soft around him, soft and squishy, and he laughed breathily. Was he in the clouds? Was this what clouds felt like? The world had turned into one big soft, fluffy cloud, all around him, cradling him, and Spencer made a happy little noise. It was nice, here. The cloud was nice. Maybe he’d show it to his Dad later. Or Sam. Yeah. Sam was always so stressed out. Maybe he’d take him up, let him sit in a cloud. How could anyone be stressed when they felt like this?

There was a strange sound from nearby. He registered it and dismissed it just as quickly. Then, he couldn’t ignore it. His soft, safe little cloud was interrupted by something sharp and hard. A voice, loud and jarring, screaming out “ _I found him!_ ” and Spencer tried to turn away from it, to get back to that happy feeling, but the voice wouldn’t let him. Why wouldn’t it let him? It grabbed at him with hurting hands that burned on his skin like they were made of fire and he whimpered from the pain.

Another voice came from up above him. “Shit.”

“Call Dad!” The worried voice with the burning hands said right near his head. Then those hands on him were moving and Spencer found his head pillowed on something harder than his cloud and even hotter than the hands. The burning-hand smoothed back his hair and then cupped his cheek no matter how he tried to pull away from it. “He’s so cold. His skin feels like ice!”

“That says a helluva lot, coming from you.” Another voice said.

The cloud feeling was slowly starting to change into something different. Something, blurrier. Like a picture that had water thrown on it so the pain dripped and smeared down to the bottom. His word was made up of heat and fire and running paints and Spencer just couldn’t bring himself to care.

He _did_ care when suddenly a loud voice started cursing hot and hard nearby. Out of nowhere a hand smacked down almost violently on his chest and something _hot_ and _bright_ reached into him. It poured into his body with such strength that Spencer found himself crying out under it. The fire wasn’t burning his outsides anymore. It pushed through his chest and crawled inside of him, burning its way through his bloodstream and setting every bit of it on fire. His body bowed up off the ground and another scream ripped out of him. It grew hotter and hotter and he couldn’t tell if he was screaming anymore, could only feel the fire as it consumed every single inch of him until, with one final flash, it was gone and Spencer fell down into the cool darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing that Spencer became aware of when he woke was warmth. Softness and warmth. This was nothing like that earlier feeling he’d had. That was a vague sense in the back of his mind, a memory that was there and yet not, too thin to catch and hold on to. This feeling now, the softness and warmth he felt as sleep slowly fell off him, was a familiar one that he could recognize even in his most exhausted state. Snuffling a little, drawing in that familiar earthy scent, he tried to shuffle just a little closer to press against the fur of what he’d once jokingly called his favorite body-pillow. Moving, however, proved to be an absolutely idiotic thing to do. The minute he tried, his body very clearly and very loudly told him that he must’ve been used as some sort of punching bag while he was sleeping because there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t _hurt_. Even his eyelashes hurt! How was that possible?

Smothering a groan, he finished the little movement he’d been trying to do, figuring he was already hurting so why the hell not at least achieve what he’d wanted? He buried his face against the mound of fur in front of him, curled his fingers in more of it, and held on as he tried to ride out the intense part of the pain until that sharper edge wore off and left behind only the dull, steady ache. A low rumble sounded below his face. Spencer recognized the sound for what it was; a low growl that carried a hint of concern to it. The next second, something cold and wet brushed against his head, snuffling at his hair, and then a low voice was growling out “Try not to move too much, pup.”

“Not your pup.” Spencer tried to mumble, but with his face buried in fur it came out sounding more like ‘n’t y’r ‘up’.

The low sound of his brother’s laugh had Spencer's headache flaring. “Try saying that when you’re not curled up against my belly, clutching my fur like it’s your safety blanket.”

“Shut up.”

“Aren’t you two just adorable.” Another voice said, rich and smoky and full of amusement. There was the light click of heels that became muted as they came on the carpet. The footsteps stopped right beside him and Spencer swore his headache allowed him to hear every thread of fabric rubbing against one another as Hel squatted down beside him. At least, he assumed she was squatting. He wasn’t unburying his face from Fenrir’s fur unless he absolutely had to. Even then, it would be an iffy thing.

A cool hand brushed against the side of his head and drew some of his hair back from his face. Scowling, Spencer pressed closer in to Fenrir. He felt the low rumble of Fenrir’s growl and something brushed past his hair. He assumed it was Fenrir nudging Hel’s hand away because her touch disappeared at the same time. “Leave him be, Hel.” Fen warned her. “Just cause the drug’s gone doesn’t mean he’s better. You heard what Dad said.”

“All I did was touch his head!” Hel defended herself.

Rubbing his face against the fur in front of him, Spencer murmured “’S bright.” He knew Fen would be able to hear him. His hearing had always been especially sharp.

There was another rustle of fabric. He imagined Hel was sitting now, though it surprised him that she’d bring herself to sit on the floor. And they were on the floor—Spencer recognized that. He knew the rug that they were lying on. It was the one that sat in front of the fireplace in his bedroom at one of his safe houses. The one in France, if he remembered right. But what were they doing in France? Why was he here? Battling back the headache, and the dry and nasty taste in his mouth, Spencer tried to find out what was going on. The best he could manage was a raspy “Wha’ happened?”

There was a bit of quiet for a moment. He both blessed it and worried about it. The silence was wonderful for his headache but not so great for finding out what was going on. Why weren’t they answering him? Spencer tried to make his brain wake up, to lose the fog that seemed settled there.

Hel was the one to finally break the silence. “Don’t worry about that right now, Spencer. Dad said your body was going to need to sleep after what it went through. Just, get some rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

That set alarm bells ringing in Spencer's head. Why wouldn’t they want to answer him? Even in this hazy state of mind, he knew that demanding an answer wouldn’t work. They’d just dig their heels in and refuse to answer him. So he went a different route entirely. Letting his voice go a little soft, he said “Dad?” There was a tiny quaver that he hadn’t planned on but that worked pretty damn good with what he wanted here. He let it build a little more to add to the image of a scared little kid, one thing he knew his siblings had almost no defenses against. “Where…is Dad here? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Fen reassured him, nuzzling at his hair in a reassuring way.

“Fen’s right, he’s fine.” Hel added in. “He’s with Sam right now. Everyone’s being taken care of, so let us take care of you. Sleep, Spencer.”

He was with Sam? Why was he with Sam? Spencer pushed his brain to wake up a little more, trying to figure out why thinking of Sam had him instantly worried. What was going on? Why was his mind so damn foggy? He cast back, trying to think of the last thing he could remember, maybe figure out what it was that was causing this. A second later his whole body locked down tight and his eyes snapped open. The pounding that built in his skull didn’t matter. He ignored it, ignored the pain. Oh, no. No, no, no. He remembered. He _remembered_. The case, the couple that ate one another, the strange nausea, the building feeling of _need_ , running away, hiding out, trying to stop it and failing, oh Grandfather, failing so _badly_ , and then the high. The wonderful, blissful high, that glorious feeling in his veins after so long without. Three years, two months, and seventeen days, all down the drain. He’d pumped himself so full of Dilaudid it was any wonder he was still _alive_. And in that high, in those hazy memories, there was the memory of Sam’s voice. Sam, calling him. Praying to him. Begging him for help. Sam, Castiel, Dean, all of them, calling him, needing him.

“Where’s Sam?” Spencer croaked out. His body was taunt, stretched almost to the breaking point.

“Spencer…” Hel began.

“No.” He cut her off. With extreme force of will, he pushed up off of Fen and sat up, his body trembling. Whatever his father had done, taking the drugs out of his system, burning them out—he remember the pain now, Gabriel’s grace racing through him, burning every drop of the drug inside his veins, a wildfire of agony—it hadn’t taken away the physical aftereffects of the drug itself. Spencer knew this feeling; he recognized the weakness, the pain, as a part of the withdrawal when he’d quit the last time. It would get worse before it got better. That didn’t matter right now, though. He looked at the sibling most likely to answer him and he repeated his question, demanding “Where is Sam?” _Is he okay? What happened to him? Is he hurt? Please, Grandfather, don’t let him be hurt because I was here getting high. Please don’t let me have failed him that way._

He didn’t know if he’d accidentally projected his thoughts or if it was just that obvious in his face. Either way, he saw Hel sigh and deflate a little. Before Fen could stop her, she said “He’s at some place Dad called a ‘panic room’. He…”

Whatever else she had to say, he didn’t hear. Spencer wasted no time once he knew where his charge was. Spreading his wings, he took flight.

What he hadn’t counted on was just how weak and sore he was _everywhere_. Not just body, but grace, too, and wings. When he landed in Bobby’s basement, just outside the panic room, he hit hard and off center, stumbling and almost hitting the floor. If it hadn’t been for Castiel, he would have ended up flat on his face. But the angel was standing nearby and he moved quickly. Strong arms caught Spencer and braced him up before he could connect. He said something as he pulled Spencer upright, but it was lost on the young nephilim. Everything around him was lost as he heard Sam cry out. The absolute _pain_ in that sound had Spencer moving without thinking. He stumbled out of Castiel’s embrace and right into the panic room door, hands fumbling to try and open it.

When he couldn’t get his hands to work it open, he growled and did the next best thing. Risking another crash, he flew, bringing himself to the other side of the door. This time there was only a slight stumble. He didn’t care, though. He let it carry him forward towards the writhing figure that was _shackled_ to the cot in the middle of the room.

There was a brief tug against Spencer's grace as he stumbled over to the cot and dropped down to his knees. He knew and dismissed the feeling. It was the strange sensation that always hit when he walked past angel warding. While it wouldn’t keep him trapped in here, or keep him out, like it would with a regular angel, his grace still felt it. He was just protected by the soul that was twined with his grace. Spencer ignored the feeling, ignored the jolting pain of his knees when they connected with the ground. All of his attention was on Sam. Sweaty, aching, hallucinating, delirious Sam. “Oh, Sam.” Spencer breathed out softly. He lifted one shaking hand and very carefully laid his palm flat over Sam’s forehead.

When he pulled his hand back, he extended just enough grace to not calm Sam completely, but at least offer him some sleep. Sam’s body slumped down onto the cot and Spencer withdrew his hand. His whole body shuddered from the pain that was both inside and out. It had taken some work, sifting through the jumbled mess that was Sam’s mind right now, but Spencer had seen enough to know what had happened. He’d seen Sam, chained up in the bathroom, craving the demon blood and praying, begging for Spencer to come and help him. Then, the demons showing up, attacking, and Sam’s sorrow even as he was draining the demon dry, unable to stop himself. And he saw Sam at the diner, fighting off Famine’s pull, _refusing_ the demons offered to him with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible, and he saw as Sam defeated him. This amazing, wonderful human had defeated a Horseman. He’d taken in demon blood and then, somehow, had found the strength to resist when more was offered to him, something that he shouldn’t have been able to do. He’d refused the demons, exorcising them, and then had used what strength he had left to take Famine down.

“I’m so sorry, Sam.” Spencer's voice was just a soft little whisper in the air. Even if Sam had been awake, it was doubtful he would’ve heard him.

Someone else did, though. Caught up in reading Sam’s memories and easing him as best he could, Spencer hadn’t realized that there was anyone else there. Not until his father’s voice suddenly spoke up directly behind him. “This wasn’t your fault, kiddo.”

Spencer didn’t turn his head to look back. Leaning heavily against the edge of the cot, he contented himself with watching the rise and fall of Sam’s chest, seeing the soul underneath with its new stains—stains that he knew were his fault. “I should’ve been there.”

“Famine hit everyone, Fox. He even got to Cassie.”

That took a second to process. Realization hit and Spencer nodded. “The hamburger.”

“Yep.” Gabriel agreed. “His vessel really likes red meat, apparently.”

That didn’t change things, though. It didn’t take away his guilt. Tired, Spencer bowed his head, resting it on his arm. “I remember hearing him.” The words slipped from him, soft and aching, a confession he wouldn’t have made to anyone else. “Him, Dean, even Uncle Cas. I heard them all and I just…I didn’t…”

There was a soft breath of air and Spencer looked up just as Gabriel crouched down beside him. How had he…Spencer's eyes found one of the sigils on the wall and he gave a small mental nod. Someone had modified the angel sigil with an extra symbol that allowed Gabriel freedom to enter and exit. He must’ve had Dean or Bobby put that up so that he could help out Sam. Bobby, probably. It was highly unlikely that Dean would willingly do anything that would allow Gabriel access to his brother. Either that, or Gabriel hadn’t told them what it would do. That option was just as likely.

Gabriel carefully caught Spencer's face with one palm and used it to make the young nephilim look at him. That low, muted glow of gold in his father’s eyes held Spencer's gaze. “This wasn’t your fault, little fox.” Gabriel said in a voice that was somehow both firm and gentle all at the same time. His thumb stroked over Spencer's cheekbone lightly. “Don’t take this guilt on. This, Sam, it’s not on you. You were in no condition to help him.” His lips quirked up into a small smirk that wasn’t quite normal, too much honest worry still touching the edges of it. “You want to feel bad about something? How about scaring the hell out of your old man here? Or hiding out instead of, y’know, actually asking for help. You were so well hidden I had to call in backup just to find you!”

A new wave of guilt washed over Spencer. Closing his eyes, he leaned into the touch on his cheek, tipped his face down a little at the same time. “I’m sorry. I thought, I thought it was just cravings at first and I was trying to beat it. Then, when I realized what it was, it was too late. It was like I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop.”

“That’s how Famine rolls. Gets in there, all sneaky and shit, and just sort of takes over. Pushes back everything but that need. You didn’t stand a chance, kiddo. The only reason I think Sam managed to resist was cause his addiction gave him power. It didn’t weaken him like everyone else. As bad of shit as demon blood is, it makes you really freaking strong. That, mixed with that bullheadedness only a Winchester can manage…” He shrugged as if that gesture covered it all. Then, with a soft sigh, he leaned in and pressed his forehead against Spencer's. The smell of chocolate and sweet, of forests and honey, the smell of home, wrapped around Spencer. “Don’t scare me like that again, kiddo. If you’d been human, you would’ve already been dead by the time Hel found you. You’ve got your grace so tightly suppressed, I don’t think it would’ve saved you. You were almost _gone_.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all Spencer could think to say.

Gabriel drew in an unnecessary breath and then blew it back out slowly. “Don’t do it again. I’m too old for scares like that.”

That little bit of sarcasm broke through the serious mood that had fallen over them. Spencer recognized his father’s coping methods and didn’t call him on it. The corner of his mouth curved up and he blinked open his eyes to look up at him with the mischievous light that all of Gabriel’s children had inherited to one degree or another. “You _are_ getting up there in years. Is there even a number to accurately measure your age?”

Laughing lightly, Gabriel gave his cheek a pat before letting go and pulling back. “Oh, someone thinks he’s _funny_.”

Their playful banter was cut short as Sam let out a low moan. What Spencer had done to soothe him down to sleep was already starting to fade. His forehead wrinkled and his face tightened with pain as his head rolled to one side and his body started to tense. Before Spencer could do anything, Gabriel shifted around him and put his own hand on Sam’s forehead. The pain lines eased and Sam slowly started to relax once more. Gabriel didn’t remove his hand, though. He kept it there, even shifting his body up out of his crouch so he could perch on the edge of the bed. He looked down at Spencer. “I can’t take out the demon blood completely but I can make it a little easier for him, make it go a little faster. I was just coming down to get back to work when I saw you in here. Where you weren’t supposed to be, might I add.”

“I needed to see him.” Spencer said by way of explanation.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. His expression was just a little fond, though. “Well now you’ve seen him. Get your ass back on home and rest before your brother and sister freak out trying to figure out how to cover up that they lost you. An count yourself lucky I haven’t called Jorgy! You never would’ve escaped, then.”

This time it was Spencer who rolled his eyes. “Shows what you know.” Jörmungandr, or Jor as he more commonly went by, was almost as overprotective of Spencer as Gabriel was, but Spencer knew how to get around him.

He carefully braced his hands on the cot, wincing as he pushed and forced his aching body upwards. A hand cupping his elbow helped to steady him. With it came the cooling touch of grace, not burning like last time but washing through him now like cool water, helping to ease some of the aches and take away his headache. It wouldn’t last, he knew. Withdrawal was a nasty thing and nephilim physiology didn’t take too well to the come down from Dilaudid. He’d discovered that last time; the drug reacted strangely in him and no amount of healing from Gabriel or even from his own grace could completely take away the side effects of coming off the drug. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, in some ways, and was worse in others. The physical didn’t last as long as it would in a normal human. The emotional, though, more than made up for it. Last time, Gabriel had jokingly said that something about detoxing seemed to bring out the Trickster part of Spencer's heritage, making him just as dangerous and just as snarky as Loki could be, with a mind that was just as sharp and diabolical. It wasn’t an inaccurate description.

Spencer deliberately promised nothing about going home as he made his way out of the panic room. When he reached the hall, he found Castiel still there calmly standing guard. Casting a look back at his charge, Spencer hesitated only a moment longer. Then he looked back at Castiel and gave him a tired smile. “Keep an eye on them for me, Uncle?”

Castiel dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Of course, Spencer.”

“Thank you.”

Instead of flying away as he knew Castiel and his father both expected, Spencer turned himself and carefully made his way up the staircase that led upstairs. There was one more person that he wanted to see first.

When he got upstairs he found Bobby in the kitchen. The older hunter turned at the sound of his footsteps. The look that crossed Bobby’s face gave Spencer a clue as to how bad he must look. He hadn’t really stopped to think about that before he’d come here. Now, seeing the shock and the worry on Bobby’s face, he took a second to look down at himself and try to see what it was the other man was seeing. Someone had changed him out of the clothes he’d been wearing when he’d passed out, thankfully, so it wasn’t like he was covered in his own sick or anything. He was in a pair of plaid pajama pants, a long sleeved black shirt, and he was barefoot. Huh. Hadn’t realized that. A wave of his hand put socks and comfortable shoes on his feet. There, that was better.

It wasn’t really his clothes that bothered Bobby. Spencer imagined it was the tired look he knew had to be on his face. The bags under his eyes, the slightly hollowed out look, the lank hair hanging round his face. Last time he’d gone through detox it had left him looking like some starving refugee. He doubted he looked any better this time.

“I’m all right.” He said quickly, staving off the words he could see building on Bobby’s lips. “Really. I’ll be fine, Singer. Now, is Dean around here anywhere? I need to speak with him for a moment.” Not that he was looking forward to this conversation. Still, it was best to get it out of the way now, while everyone was occupied and Sam wasn’t conscious. No need to stress anyone out.

Bobby looked at him for a moment longer, assessing. Then he jerked his thumb towards the front of the house. “He’s out there, working on the car.”

“Thanks, Singer.”

This wasn’t going to be very much fun. Spencer knew that Dean was going to be angry with him. He had every right to be. This whole situation was messed up. But Spencer wanted to get it out in the open, clear the air, before Sam woke up. The last thing Sam would need would be tension. He was going to need his friends and his family to get past this. That meant that Spencer needed to get things patched up with Dean as quickly as possible. He’d have to patch things up with Sam, too, once the younger Winchester woke up, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be hard to do with Sam. Most likely Sam wasn’t even going to blame him for things. That was just the kind of person he was. He saw the good in people, for all that he couldn’t ever manage to see it in himself. Dean, however—he wasn’t going to be as forgiving. Not when it came to his brother’s safety. The friendship between Spencer and Dean was like this strange balancing act, dipping towards one side or the other all the time, always needing to be carefully balanced and managed. He knew that Dean didn’t quite trust him, especially not after the revelation of Spencer's parentage. That only served to make the older Winchester even more cautious around Spencer. This—this was going to set them back quite a ways. Dean was going to be furious that Spencer hadn’t been there to help when Sam needed it after all Spencer's promises to help and to watch out for him. Nothing pissed Dean off more than something that put Sam at risk.

It wasn’t hard to find Dean once he got outside. All he had to do was follow the sound of music. It led him over to one of the covered areas that Bobby used to work on cars. He found Dean bent underneath the hood of the impala, AC/DC playing loudly in the background. Spencer had to lift his voice quite a bit to be heard over the music as he called out Dean’s name once he got close. Dean’s head snapped up and sharp eyes quickly found him.

He’d expected to be greeted by anger. What he hadn’t expected was to be greeted by a fist to the face.

He didn’t dodge the blow, though he could have. He let it connect and stumbled back underneath it, just barely keeping his feet. The pain of it throbbed through the left side of his face and brought back the headache that his father had dulled for him. Spencer braced a hand on the wall nearby and held his other hand over his cheek while trying to fight back the pounding ache that grew. He’d barely started to straighten up when Dean was right there, fearlessly pushing into his space. “Where the _fuck_ were you?” the hunter snarled at him furiously. “We prayed to you. Sam prayed, I prayed, even Cas tried called for you. _Again._ ”

Spencer dropped his hand down and made his body straighten up. He wouldn’t cower before him. “I’m sorry.”

Fury twisted Dean’s features. “Not good enough. You’ve sure got a hell of a way of being absent when we actually freaking need you. Funny how that works. Where were you this time that was so much more important than helping us take down Famine?”

Spencer lifted his chin and braced himself for what he knew was going to come next. “I was high.”

“You were…high? Like, flying?” Dean was grasping at straws there and they both knew it.

“No. High, as in injecting Dilaudid into my veins.”

His predictions had been right. Dean’s fist swung up again, this time managing to send him flying back into a wall. Spencer just managed to catch himself and keep from sliding down to the ground. He braced there, hands on the wall, as blood dripped from his mouth. His already aching body felt like it had been run over another time or two by a giant truck. Yet he made no move to defend himself as Dean cursed him up one side and down the other. “I can’t believe it, man! I can’t freaking believe it! We’re out there risking our asses and you’re off getting _high_?”

“Famine hit everyone’s addictions.” Spencer said, pushing himself upright. Twisting, he spat out some blood in the dirt. “Dilaudid happens to be mine.”

“Boy, you and Sammy really are perfect for one another here, aren’t you? No wonder you two are so attached. You’re just the same…”

Now, Spencer had been prepared to hear just about anything that Dean had to say about him. He wasn’t as prepared, or willing, to listen to what the man had to say about his brother. Temper snapped in his eyes and he stood just a little straighter. “Watch it, Winchester.” There was obvious warning in his tone.

It was a warning Dean didn’t listen to. Of course not. Did he ever? “What, can’t stand hearing the truth?”

“Do you even have any idea what you’re talking about?” Spencer demanded. He wiped a hand over his mouth to clear away the taste of blood. “Have you ever felt real addiction? I mean, we all know you’re an alcoholic, but tell me, have you ever had to really feel the _need_ that courses inside you when you’re truly addicted to something?”

“I’m not an alcoholic.” Dean shot back. His lip curled up in a sneer. “And I’ve never been stupid enough to get myself hooked on any of that hard shit. I sure as hell wasn’t stupid enough to go drinking that bitch blood, ether.”

Spencer sneered right back at him, his usual patience nowhere in sight. “No, you’re just oh-so-perfect, aren’t you?”

“Hey, at least I’m not the one who keeps bailing out on his so-called friends every time shit gets rough.”

Anger spiked hard and hot in Spencer and, before he could stop it, his grace snapped out and sent Dean slamming backwards right into the side of the impala. He had a brief moment of regret and then Dean was shoving off the car and stalking forward. “Yeah, that’s right. Get mad and lash out. You seem real good at that. Show me what a big man you are cause you got the mojo to throw me around. You’re awfully tough when there’s not anything serious on the line.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer curled his hands into fists at his sides and tried to remind himself that he’d come out here with the express purpose of letting Dean get this out of his system away from everyone else. _Don’t let him provoke you. Just, let him get it out._

That pep talk might have worked. But then Dean opened his mouth and Spencer's control vanished. “I may not be some junkie like you,” Dean spat out “but I wouldn’t ever abandon people I cared about just to go poison myself.”

Spencer swore in that moment he understood the meaning of ‘seeing red’. How was it that Dean managed to so thoroughly provoke him in ways that no one human ever had before? “Is that what you think?” Spencer demanded. He shoved off the wall, taking a step forward, and the air around him crackled. “You think that, what, you’re so much better than the rest of us?” Another step forward. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve never felt that kind of _need_.” Another step, and Dean backed up this time, looking just a little more cautious than he had before. There was nowhere for him to back up to, though. He was right at the car and Spencer pressed his advantage, closing that last little bit of distance until Dean was backed fully against the impala. “You have no idea. But you will. Let’s see how _tough_ you really are.” Lifting two fingers, Spencer pressed them against Dean’s temple.

He saw the instant it hit. The tremor that ran down Dean’s body, the dilated pupils, the way his heart sped up. Then, the sweat, a light sheen breaking out over his whole body. Next, the itching, absent at first and growing stronger. Spencer stood there and watched as the craving settled over and inside of Dean. He watched the way that Dean’s hands shook as he scratched at his arm. He watched Dean’s face clench as the muscle spasms and nausea started. All the things that Spencer had felt, all that need that had built in him, Dean was experiencing it all.

“Not so easy now, is it.” Spencer said, and his voice had gone so much softer. “Still think you’d resist? Do you think you could stand against that?” He didn’t sound angry anymore. He wasn’t. Green eyes met brownish gold and there was a wealth of sympathy and understanding that passed back and forth. Lifting his hand, Spencer brushed his fingers over Dean’s forehead again and he watched now as the man slumped against his precious car in relief. Spencer drew away the mock-craving. He gave Dean a second to regain himself, waiting until those eyes lifted once more to his before he spoke again. “Imagine feeling that, feeling it build stronger and stronger. It doesn’t go away, doesn’t stop. Nothing distracts you from it. Imagine that all you have to do is wave your hand and what you need will be right there. Or imagine that you have it practically dumped in your lap, like those demons did to Sam. And then—then imagine being offered it, a whole lot of it, and then _turning it down_.” Spencer huffed out a soft laugh and shook his head, taking a step back. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am weak. I didn’t hold out. That’s my curse. So feel free to take your temper out on me over it. But make sure you vent whatever anger it is you have at _me_ , Winchester. Get it out of your system now. Because, your brother? He is so much stronger than you realize. He took that feeling I gave you, fed it when it was shoved in his face, and then somehow managed to conquer it and use his mistake to save all of us. Think on that while you’re out here feeling high and mighty and righteous.”

Without another word, Spencer turned around and started to walk away.

He’d only made it a few steps when the sound of his name stopped him. Turning, he looked back over his shoulder. Dean was still standing by the impala, but he wasn’t anywhere near as cocky as he’d been before. There was something different to his face. Something, softer. He looked down at the ground for a minute and then looked up, his eyes meeting Spencer's over the short distance. “Thanks.”

In that one word was a wealth of other things that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, say. But Spencer heard it and he nodded back, letting him know he understood. Then, turning back around, he headed back to the house. This time, he was smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days weren’t pleasant for anyone. Spencer alternated his time between his safe house and the Singer household. After his little episode in the yard with Dean—which Gabriel wasn’t the least bit happy about. It had taken Spencer _hours_ to convince his father not to go exact a little revenge for the bruises on Spencer's face—he tried to pull back when he could feel himself getting towards the edge. His detox left him riding a roller coaster of emotions with way too many highs and lows. Visits with his father took care of some of the worse physical symptoms, thankfully, and when the mental or emotional ones kicked in, he would escape back to his safe house where either Fen or Hel, or both, would be waiting for him.

They helped him get through that horrid first day, where the symptoms were the worst. Ten days was the average that Spencer had discovered in his research last time on Dilaudid detox. With his accelerated healing on his side, that lowered it to about five. Five days of feeling like complete and utter shit, to use one of Jor’s favorite terms.

Sam was down hard for the first two days. It wasn’t until the third that he woke up, coherent enough to do more than sip a bit of water and fall back asleep.

There were some good moments that happened, though.

It was on day three, when the mumbles and screams from downstairs had finally stopped and Sam’s body had settled into a peaceful, actually restful sleep, that Dean came and found Spencer. Having spent the past hour downstairs with Sam easing some of the last bits of pain his charge was in, Spencer had come upstairs to take a breather. That panic room was quickly becoming someplace he hated. Once Sam was out of there, Spencer would be glad to not have to see that room anymore. He imagined Sam would say the same thing. It was stifling down there. Confining. And though the wards didn’t stop him, that odd little feeling they gave him got uncomfortable after a while. It was worth it, though, to help out Sam. A little discomfort was the least he could do after everything.

Spencer was sitting on the front steps when he heard Dean come out behind him. He didn’t turn back to look at him, didn’t bother to say anything at all, really. He was tired, achy, and not really in the mood for any kind of fighting. Ever since their fight on that first day they had managed to pretty much avoid one another.

So it was a bit of a surprise when a bottle of beer appeared over his shoulder. He tipped his head, looking up to find Dean standing there holding the bottle out, one of his own already open in his other hand. Spencer stared at him for a second before taking the bottle. Beer wasn’t usually his drink of choice. He wasn’t all that fond of the flavor. Still…a discreet bit of grace changed the contents of the bottle. When Spencer opened it and brought it to his lips he found the sweet taste of iced tea. Alcohol probably wasn’t the smartest drink for him during _detox_. What Dean didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, though. He took another drink and watched from the corner of his eye as Dean settled himself down on the step at Spencer's side.

For a few long moments the porch was quiet. Whatever had brought Dean out here, he’d speak up about it eventually. Until then Spence was content to just sit here and enjoy his tea and the cooler evening air while he waited.

He didn’t have a long wait. Dean blew out a low breath and Spencer swore he could actually feel the man gathering himself. “Look,” Resting his elbows on his knees, the older Winchester dropped his gaze down, looking at the bottle on his hands as he picked at it with his thumb. He blew out another breath. “I owe you an apology.”

Well, damn. That was the last thing that Spencer had expected to hear. He turned to look at Dean with raised eyebrows. “You’re apologizing?”

His embarrassment was palpable. “Shut up. I’m trying to be nice here, all right? I know I’ve been giving you a hard time lately.”

“It’s okay.” Spencer shrugged, dropping his gaze down to his own bottle in a pose that mimicked Dean’s. “I sort of expected it, you know? After Dad and, and everything.”

Dean grimaced. “Yeah, well, that’s not exactly fair. Just cause your Dad’s a grade A douchebag doesn’t mean that you are.”

“Winchester…” Spencer turned just enough to give him a mock glare.

Holding out one hand, Dean finally lifted his gaze away from his bottle, looking up at Spencer. A hint of humor danced in his eyes and his lips curled up in a smug little smirk that Spencer decided he probably shouldn’t mention reminded him of his father’s smirk. “Hey, I’m willing to give on some things, but you gotta meet me half way, sparky. After the things he’s done, we got every right to not like him.”

He really couldn’t deny that. Gabriel hadn’t exactly been at his finest with these two. He’d made mistakes with them. No matter that he’d had the best of intentions, most of the time, his attempts at help had still ended up doing damage. Spencer wasn’t blind; he could see that. But at the same time, this was his father they were talking about. He arched one eyebrow at Dean and threw back “So you’d be completely okay with me calling out John Winchester for the rat bastard that he is, then, right?”

“Hey now.” Dean said, sitting up a little straighter.

Spencer shrugged, taking another drink from his bottle. “Fair’s fair.”

“My Dad never did anything to you.”

“No, but he’s done plenty to the two of you.” Spencer countered. His voice was just a little sharper than he’d intended, a hint of his temper peeking through, a small flash of gold in his eyes. “I’ve seen the scars he left inside Sam. Trust me, there’s plenty I could say about Winchester senior. But out of respect for you two, I don’t.”

The porch was quiet for a moment longer. Then, to his complete surprise, Dean sighed and settled back down. “Point taken. I’ll keep my bitching to a minimum.” Lifting his bottle, he pointed one finger at Spencer. “But don’t expect me to be nice to him all the time. I won’t complain too much, but I draw the line at playing nice all the time.”

“Heaven forbid.” Spencer said dryly.

Quiet fell over the two once more. This time, it was more relaxed, almost companionable. Spencer found some of the tension draining out of him. Despite how often he ended up arguing with Dean, he had to admit that there was just something about the man that was relaxing to be around. In some ways, he reminded Spencer of Fen and Jor. Maybe it was just that big brother vibe. Or maybe it was the bits of him that reminded Spencer of Gabriel. The ever-present humor, the strength underneath it. Whatever it was, Spencer found himself enjoying the man’s company. He had a feeling he and Dean could be good friends if they could just stop trying to bite each other’s heads off so much. It was nice and easy to just sit here with him as they both finished off their drinks.

By the time he was almost done, Spencer could feel himself starting to drift. He was more tired than normal these past few days. It was another familiar part of detox for him. Last time, Gabriel had explained to him that it was because his body and grace were expending so much trying to heal him that it left him exhausted. Besides, he’d been told, sleep was one of the best healers. It didn’t make it any less annoying to be so tired, though.

It must’ve been obvious just how tired he was. He looked up to find Dean watching him. The hunter didn’t look away once he got caught. In fact, he raised his eyebrows and bluntly said “You look like shit.”

“You saw the sweetest things, Winchester.”

“I just call em like I see em. You look like about five miles of bad road. Why don’t you head inside, get some sleep?”

As much as he wanted to insist that he was fine, that he didn’t need to sleep, he knew it’d be a lie. Sleep sounded wonderful. Even thinking about it had him yawning. “Maybe you’re right.”

Dean smirked and took another drink off his beer. “I’m always right.”

Laughter tickled Spencer's throat. He pushed up to his feet, shaking his head and smiling down at his friend. “You just keep telling yourself that, Winchester.” With another laugh, he made his way inside Bobby’s house. That couch was calling out his name. He was a little too tired to try flying home. A quick nap here on the couch and he should be fine.

He was asleep before he’d even finished settling in.

CXCX

Only seconds after Spencer closed his eyes in the waking world, he opened them in the dreaming world. He recognized it instantly for what it was. Years of sharing dreams with his father had taught him a lot about his own mindscape. That knowledge was how Spencer knew that something here was wrong. This wasn’t one of the dreams he and his father shared. This wasn’t one of their sporadic visits—someone else was doing this. Spencer cast his eyes around the familiar library of his dreamscape while his whole being went on alert, trying to find out what was different here.

He didn’t have long to wonder. There was the sound of movement from behind him and Spencer spun, only to freeze in horror. Because sitting on one of the comfortable chairs against the far wall wasn’t his father, as was normal.

It was Lucifer.

Lucifer, who was calmly setting up a chess board on the table between the two chairs. He finished setting down the last pawn and then looked up at Spencer and smiled warmly, openly, like he was honestly happy to see him here. Too bad it couldn’t erase the chill of his next words. “Hello, nephew. I’ve been trying so very hard to get in here to see you. Won’t you come and play a game with me?”

The word ‘nephew’ had Spencer wanting to shiver. His first instinct was to panic. Lucifer, the devil himself, was here in his dreamscape, and _he_ _knew what he was_. There was nothing about that that could be considered good. Spencer forcibly shoved the panic down, though, with a great bit of effort. Panic would get him nowhere here. He needed to be calm and in control. He needed to find out what Lucifer was doing here— _as if I can’t already guess that one, dammit!—_ and what exactly he knew. Did he know who Spencer really was, out in the waking world? Did he know who his father was? Or, how about how the hell he’d managed to find him to begin with! Did that mean that he knew where Spencer physically was? He needed answers. To get those answers, he was going to have to be calm and on his very best game.

All of those thoughts passed through Spencer in just seconds. He drew in a calming breath and blew out the panic. Then, trying valiantly to remember everything his father had ever taught him about the Morningstar, he gave a small little bow and schooled his voice to one of polite deference, youth to adult, as he said “It would be my pleasure, Uncle.”

Lucifer smiled like he was pleased by Spencer's response. He gestured grandly to the other chair, and it didn’t escape Spencer's attention that he was being granted _permission_ to sit in his own dreamscape. He didn’t comment on it, though. He just made his way over to the chair that he always sat in and folded himself comfortably down into it.

The chessboard was set up with white facing towards Spencer and black towards Lucifer. _How fitting_.

First move was always with white. Spencer made his opening gambit and watched the man across from him smile. The first few minutes of their game were played in silence. Spencer thought of a thousand different things he wanted to say, to ask, but he kept them all locked behind his teeth, trying so hard to keep in mind the various things Gabriel had taught him about angelic hierarchy. Not that they were things his father had ever expected of him, or even wanted in any way, but Spencer had always been curious and he’d always asked plenty of questions. Right in that moment he was thankful for it. It helped him to keep quiet and controlled and to simply wait. Even if Lucifer wasn’t expecting the manners, or even if he didn’t realize what Spencer was doing, it was still worth it to see the slight flare of surprise on his face, to see how Spencer's silence threw him off. He obviously hadn’t expected it.

After a few silent minutes, Lucifer sat back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests and folding his hands in front of his mouth while he watched Spencer contemplate his move. It would figure that the devil was an excellent chess player. “You are an interesting one.” Lucifer murmured. His voice was laced with amusement and curiosity. “So very polite and respectful for one so young. I know you have questions, nephew. Please, ask them. I promise you I won’t attack you over a simple question.”

That was the opening Spencer had been waiting for. He moved his bishop forward and then folded his hands in his lap. One question leapt to his lips, begging to be asked first. “How did you find me?”

“Ah, yes.” Lucifer smiled slightly, just a slight twitch of the lips. Long fingers ghosted over the chess board before he picked up a pawn and moved it forward. “It wasn’t easy, mind you. The protection you put over my vessel was very well done. I applaud you on that.”

Spencer dipped his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. “Thank you.”

“There are only a few spells I know of that could effectively keep _me_ out. Especially considering the connection an angel has to their true vessel. It would have to take something powerful to block that. I did a bit of research and finally found the one you used. After that, it was a simple matter of probing the warding and getting enough of a signature off of it to trace to—you. It wasn’t enough to let me find you physically, not yet, but it was enough to bring us both here.”

“Why?”

In that gesture of confused angels everywhere, Lucifer cocked his head, curiosity bright in his eyes. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why would you want to speak with me here?” Spencer straightened up ever so slightly in his seat. For this part he would be plain and clear, manners be damned. “I won’t release Sam Winchester to you.”

“Sam will come to me.” The utter confidence with which Lucifer said that was enough to make Spencer's insides cold. He said it like it was a fact; a foregone conclusion. “Your interference won’t change that. Sam’s mine and he’ll come to me. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then I repeat my question. Why would you want to speak with me here, Uncle?”

A smile stretched the angel’s lips and it was warm and inviting. Charming, even. “For you, nephew. Is it so strange that I’d want to speak with you?”

Spencer couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran down his spine at those words.

His shiver didn’t go unnoticed. If anything, it seemed to amuse Lucifer. “You seem surprised.”

It took effort, but Spencer shoved down his surprise and his fear both and tried to bring himself back to the calm he’d been carrying before. When he spoke again, he was proud that his voice was steady. “I wouldn’t say surprised.” Spencer tipped his head, contemplating his move, aiming for casual even as he snuck a quick look up through his bangs. “Confused would be a more accurate term.”

“Why? Because you’re nephilim? I’m not so backwards as my brothers, Spencer.”

“No, of course not.” Leaning in, Spencer hooked long fingers over the top of his rook, letting them rest there briefly, his voice turning almost absent. “It wasn’t my grace that I thought would turn you away. I assumed it would be my _soul_.” He lifted the rook and moved it, lifting his head when he was done so that he could look the devil straight in the eyes. “Then again, you’re a being who recognizes power. Recruiting me to your side would be quite the coup, would it not? Enough to maybe even overlook that small little fact.”

Either his words or his steady stare threw Lucifer slightly. There was a brief flash of surprise in his eyes followed by what looked to be—pleasure? Pride? No, he had to be reading that wrong. It was all gone in a flash and that amused and arrogant look was back. “You’re rather brave, aren’t you?”

“Is it bravery to speak the truth?”

“To me? Many would consider it so.”

Spencer shrugged one shoulder as casually as he could manage. “I’m not afraid to speak words of truth to you. I was under the impression that the risk would be in lying, would it not?”

Warm, bright laughter, like the sun on a summer day, washed over Spencer. There was no mistaking the pride and pleasure on Lucifer’s face this time. He was smiling at Spencer and his eyes were lit with an inner light. For one brief, shining moment, Spencer could see a glimpse of the angel his father had spoken of. The older brother that Gabriel had loved with every bit of his grace. “I’m going to enjoy getting to know you, nephew. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such pleasant and stimulating conversation. Few are willing to be quite so open with me.”

“That might have something to do with their fear that you’ll kill them for saying the wrong thing.” Spencer pointed out dryly.

“And you don’t share that fear?”

“I think that, if you wanted me dead, I would already be so.” The chess game momentarily forgotten, Spencer crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, turning his full attention to the push and pull of their conversation. This verbal sparring match that was more challenging than any talk he’d ever had with any Unsub.

Lucifer’s smile grew. “As I said, I am going to enjoy getting to know you.” Leaning in, he looked down at the chessboard and moved one piece. Then he straightened back up once more. “Until next time, nephew.” In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

CXCX

Spencer jolted awake so hard he almost fell off the couch. It took a moment of clutching at the blanket—one he didn’t remember putting on himself—and staring around the familiar library before his heart slowed enough for him to recognize where he was. Bobby’s house. This was Bobby’s house. He was awake and safe at Bobby’s home, with the sound of Bobby over there in the kitchen and Gabriel watching over them somewhere nearby and wards all over the place. No one was getting in here that shouldn’t. He was safe. Still, Spencer found himself wishing that he had flown home earlier. That he was back at his safe house. If he was there, Fenrir would’ve been right there with him, and Spencer wasn’t too prideful to admit that he would dearly love to curl up in his brother’s fur right now.

All the fear that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel before came rushing in. That hadn’t been a regular dream. That—that had been real. He’d really sat in his mindscape and _talked to the devil_. Not just talked to him, but played _chess_ with him. Pushing up, Spencer carefully curled his legs up under himself, tucking his body into the corner of the couch. What was he going to do? Should he tell the others about this? There wasn’t anything that they could do. All it would do would cause them to worry even more. Hadn’t he given them enough to worry about lately?

The sound of footsteps had Spencer's head snapping up. To his surprise, it wasn’t Bobby coming towards him, the one that he’d thought was in the kitchen—it was Sam. “Sam.” Spencer sat up a little straighter, pushing back his own worries and smiling at the sight of his friend upright for the first time in days. “You’re up!”

“Mostly.” Sam said with a soft smile. There were slight bags under his eyes, but the tension that had been there was gone, his expression more relaxed than it had been in days. There was none of the fear or anger there. A hint of guilt, yes, and Spencer knew they’d have to talk about that. He’d have to make sure that Sam knew he had nothing to feel guilty over. For now, though, it felt good just to see his friend upright and moving. He moved just a little slow, like someone who’d been in a fight and was still feeling it. But he didn’t hesitate to cross the room and carefully lower himself down onto the couch beside Spencer. “Dean told me you were up here. I didn’t mean to wake you, though.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You didn’t.”

Sam tipped his head a little and studied Spencer's face through eyes narrowed with worry. After a second, he hesitantly asked, “Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, yes.” Spencer wiped a hand over his face, trying to push back the fear that was still inside him. “Just…just a bad dream. That’s all.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Spencer insisted. His voice was a little steadier this time. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who finally made it upstairs just a few minutes ago.”

Sam’s lips curved up in a small smile. “I’m okay. Better.”

There were so many things that Spencer wanted to say to that. Only, none of them seemed to want to come. All he could manage to do was just sit there and stare. Yet, that seemed to be enough. The two didn’t say a word to each other, but in a look that could’ve put Castiel and Dean’s stares to shame, plenty of things were exchanged between them. The understanding in Sam’s gaze told him that either Dean or Gabriel already told Sam what was going on. Though he tried not to read Sam’s thoughts, they were projecting enough that he got the gist of them and it took everything he had not to gape. Sam didn’t blame him for this—for _any_ of it. “Sam.” There was a wealth of emotion packed into that single word.

Sam smiled at him. A half-smile, with just a hint of those dimples peeking through. “Yeah. Me too.”

That was all they said. It was all they needed to say. Spencer's tension eased and he found himself smiling back.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by a furious shout coming from upstairs followed by thundering footsteps. The both of them looked up in just enough time to see Dean appear on the staircase. There was a moment of silence as the older Winchester tore down the stairs and stormed into the study. Sam, Spencer, even Bobby and Castiel, they all stood there and stared at Dean. Dean, whose skin had been dyed a light blue. He looked like a very furious smurf. Spencer was the first one to break, a snicker slipping past his lips. Immediately Dean spun and glared, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you freaking dare.”

Spencer bit his lip, hard, trying to hold in his chuckles.

Passing his glare over the room, Dean hissed out “ _Where is he_?”

“Who?” Castiel asked. He was the only one of them that didn’t look like he was about to burst with laughter. Sam was covering his mouth and Bobby was grinning openly.

“Who the hell do you think?” Dean snarled. “Where is that freaking Trickster! I’m gonna put his head on a _stick_!”

“What makes you so sure it was Gabriel?”

Dean gave his angel an incredulous look that clearly showed he was wondering if Castiel had lost a few brain cells somewhere along the way. “Who the hell else would it be? I’m gonna get him for this. I’m gonna freaking get him. He thinks he can prank me? Just cause he’s the Trickster doesn’t mean he’s the greatest. I’ll show _him_ a damn prank!” Spitting those last words out, Dean spun on his heel and marched up the staircase. Even more amusing, Castiel was following after him, and they could hear his low voice trying to reassure Dean that he could help him and his skin would not have to stay blue.

The three left waited only until they heard the door upstairs close. Then they couldn’t hold it back anymore. The two of them dissolved into laughter. Spencer laughed so hard he slid off the couch, grabbing hold of Sam’s leg to steady himself, which only served to make the younger Winchester laugh harder.

Bobby watched them with a smile on his face. Shaking his head, he gave a low “Idjits” before turning and walking away. Something told him things were about to get awfully interesting around this place. Might as well take advantage of the peace and quiet while it lasted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here. I'm not entirely sure that I like how this turned out. But, it's been sitting on my computer for days and if I don't post it now, I don't know if I ever will :P

Four days later found the entirety of ‘Team Free Will’ kicked out of Bobby’s house and currently staying at the safe house. Honestly, Spencer was surprised it had taken that long. The dying of Dean’s skin had started off what was looking to be a prank war of epic proportions. Spencer still wasn’t quite sure what joke Dean had played on Gabriel, but he’d been there when his father showed up right in the middle of Bobby’s kitchen while they were all eating and the furious looking archangel had only stayed long enough to point a finger at Dean and snarl out “It’s on now. You asked for it, Winchester.” and then he was gone.

Yeah, Spencer wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d taken to hiding since then.

He was honest enough with himself to admit that he was enjoying the results of things, though. Watching the pranks unfolding was a rather decent distraction, as was Sam’s company, and it helped Spencer get through the rest of his detox. He had a feeling it was helping Sam, too. It helped Spencer enough that he even felt comfortable letting his siblings know they could go home. That didn’t mean they’d actually listen to him. Still, he’d told them it was fine and let them know that he was going to be sticking around his Winchester for now to make sure that Sam was okay.

As if by mutual agreement no one had been talking about Famine so far. They didn’t really have this luxury, Spencer knew. Things needed to be dealt with. But he wanted to make sure that Sam was as healed as he was going to be from this before they jumped right back in. He should’ve known that Sam wasn’t going to be that careful about things. When had he ever really cared about his own wellbeing? Especially when it came to the whole apocalypse? The man was so wrapped up in guilt that Spencer hadn’t figured out how to banish. He’d sacrifice himself without hesitation to stop this. Spencer knew and it terrified him sometimes. It wasn’t just others that he had to protect Sam from; it was Sam himself. This, though, this conversation wasn’t something he could protect him from. It was something that had to happen.

Sam held off until that first night after they were kicked out of Bobby’s. He waited until they were all settling down with beer and coffee after dinner before he said anything. Carrying a mug full of coffee over to the table, he slid down into one of the chairs and wrapped both hands around his mug, looking at everyone over top of it. “So, we’ve lost a few days dealing with detox. We need to figure out our plan and get ourselves back on track.” He said, wasting no time getting right to the heart of it.

Dean looked over from where he’d been standing by the fridge, trying to convince Castiel that he really should try the beer that Spencer had stocked in there for the brothers. “Plan’s the same as it was before, isn’t it? Gather the rings.” Pushing a beer into Castiel’s hands, he took his own and headed over to join Sam at the table.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer slipped over and took the beer out of Castiel’s hands, smiling at the grateful look he got. He put it back into the fridge and gestured for Castiel to go ahead and go join the others. “We have Famine and War’s rings.” He said, moving to two mugs from the cupboard. “We need to find Pestilence and Death, next, and get their rings.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Dean said sarcastically.

Spencer turned and arched an eyebrow at him. “You think that sounds easy?”

A scowl crossed Dean’s features. “Quit making that face.” He waved a hand in Spencer's direction in a gesture meant to encompass the look he was giving. “You look like your Dad when you do that; it creeps me out.”

“Mm, speaking of Dad.” Spencer turned his attention back to what he’d been doing, pausing to add a third mug. With practiced moves, he went about preparing three cups of coffee, while at the same time he raised his voice just slightly and called out “Hey, Dad, if you’re not too busy it’d be great if you could join us. We’re going to do some planning over beer and my special coffee, if you’re interested.”

“In your coffee? Always.” Gabriel said, right beside him. He slipped an arm around Spencer's waist and leaned in against his side. Warmth from his grace washed over Spencer, a greeting, a hug, and a bit of healing for some of the residual ache, all mixed together in one. “No one makes it quite like you do.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “That’s because most people would go into a diabetic coma if they ingested the amount of sugar you like in things.” Amused, he bumped his hip against his Dad, nudging him away. “Go join the others. I’ll bring it over in a minute. And _behave_. I’m calling a momentary truce while we’re planning.”

“Bossy, bossy.” Gabriel drawled. Still, he went, though he made sure to clip Spencer lightly with his wing as he went past. He was all smiles when he reached the table and dropped down into the chair at the head, feet immediately kicking up to prop up on the chair next to him. His grin grew and turned just a little bit sharp when he saw Dean glaring at him. “Hey there, Dean-o. You’re looking decidedly less blue today.”

The blue on Dean’s skin had taken a few washes to get out, only really disappearing just yesterday after another show in some special cleaner that Castiel had gotten for him.

Before Dean could say whatever it was that Spencer saw building on his lips, the young nephilim cut him off, drawing everyone’s attention to him while he carefully carried the three mugs he’d been preparing over to the table. “The both of you, behave. I said I was calling a momentary truce. As it’s my house, I expect that condition to be respected.” He passed one mug to Gabriel, who grinned unrepentantly when he took it, and then he turned to pass the next one to Castiel. At his uncle’s surprised look, Spencer's expression softened and he gave a small smile. He’d made this for Castiel before and knew his uncle preferred it over beer. While Castiel’s sweet tooth was nowhere near as bad as Gabriel’s—was anyone’s, really?—he did have one. Spencer often wondered if it was an angel thing. Brushing his hand over Castiel’s shoulder, Spencer stepped around him and slipped down to take the chair beside Sam, turning himself enough to face Gabriel. “Have you been able to figure out any way to track down Pestilence or Death? I’ve come up blank in most of my research.”

“Don’t worry about Death. He’s the easy one.” Gabriel said, waving one hand dismissively.

Dean spluttered slightly, caught in mid-drink when Gabriel said that. He swallowed quickly and gave the archangel an incredulous look. “Getting to Death is _easy_?”

“Sure. “ Gabriel nodded, taking a drink off his coffee and making a happy little hum. He gave Spencer a broad smile of approval and thanks and then turned back to the others. “It’s been a while since I saw him last, but it shouldn’t be too hard to get a hold of him. I was just saving him for last. Once we have the other rings, I’m betting Death won’t mind loaning us his. The leash Luci has him on probably chafes something fierce. Big bro never was the gentle type.”

It made sense. Stopping Lucifer would stop the hold that he had over Death. Helping them would really be helping himself. Spencer liked the idea, especially considering he’d been wondering how they were going to manage to get the ring at all, seeing as how he highly doubted one could actually _kill Death_.

“That would just leave us Pestilence.” Castiel said.

Sam leaned forward a little, elbows resting on the table and his mug cradled between his hands like he was seeking the warmth. Though he was doing better there were still times that he got a little tremor here and there and Spencer knew that heat helped. Not too much; just a bit, like from a warm mug of tea or coffee. “I haven’t found anything on how to track him. What references I do find seem to mostly advise staying far, far away.”

That had Dean snorting. “Go figure.”

“What’d you expect? A Guide to trapping and killing Horsemen?” Gabriel asked, giving them that look he reserved for when he thought the humans around him were being particularly stupid and cute. It was a look that never failed to make Spencer roll his eyes.

“There’s gotta be something out there!” Dean argued.

Castiel shook his head. “We have found nothing so far.”

“Not on how to track em. Not in any of the information we have.” Sam told him. He shuffled a little in his seat and snuck a look over at Spencer under cover of his bangs.

Something in that look struck Spencer and his eyebrows shot up as his brain made the connection to what Sam wasn’t saying. Was he really suggesting…? He caught Sam’s eyes and the apology he saw there told him that yes, yes he was. Hunching his shoulders a little, his wings coming up in an unconscious protective gesture, he shook his head. Part of him wanted to deny this right away. That was the emotional part. The part that didn’t want to have to deal with the reactions this was going to get. The practical side of him had him holding his tongue. It wasn’t the best option, he knew, but it was the smartest right now. Maybe even their only option. Dean and Gabriel weren’t going to like it, though, and that was what had held him back so far. Blowing out a breath, Spencer set his mug down and glared lightly at his charge. “You Winchesters don’t ask easy favors, do you?”

The look on Sam’s face was pained. “You know I wouldn’t…”

Spencer lifted a hand, waving it and cutting him off. “No, no, I know.” Bringing his hand in, he rubbed at his eyes with thumb and forefinger and then pushed his hair back from his face. “I’ve been thinking about it myself. I just,” he trailed off, darting his eyes over towards the others who were staring at the two of them now.

Grimacing, Sam snuck a look at them as well. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault.”

“Okay,” Dean cut in sharply, green eyes snapping from his brother to his brother’s angel and back again. “You two wanna cut the cutesy couple crap and clue in the rest of us?”

It may have been Dean that asked the question but it was Gabriel that Spencer looked towards. One look at the controlled mask his father wore had him wincing internally. “They’re talking about asking Crowley.” Gabriel said carefully. He never took his eyes off Spencer. “He’ll screw you over first chance he gets, kiddo, and not in the fun way.”

“He’s too scared of our family to risk pissing us off.” Spencer countered. This was one thing he was sure of and he let that surety back his voice. “Crowley looks out for himself, first and foremost. He’ll look for a way to come out on top, sure, but he won’t risk anything that might seriously upset any of us. Even with the new power I hear he’s trying to gather to himself, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against you and he’s still not sure about me.” _I can do this, Dad._ Spencer switched over to mental conversation, cutting out the others and ignoring them. He could hear Dean saying something, some kind of argument, but he kept his eyes on his father.  _He’s our best shot at this. We haven’t been able to find anything on Pestilence so far. If he can give us answers…_

 _At what cost?_ Gabriel sent back.

Off to the side, Spencer vaguely heard Sam and Dean arguing this, Dean protesting loudly about their past experience working with demons and how ‘damn stupid’ it was to even think of working with them again. _I know better than to make a deal with him. Trust me, Dad. Please._

He could actually see the capitulation on his father’s face. Rolling his eyes, Gabriel snorted and picked up his mug, taking a big drink of the sugary concoction. “All right, enough with the sad sap bit. You’re such a little shit.” He said it sort of fondly, in that familiar way of his that was both fond and exasperated all at the same time, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile a little. Seeing his smile made Gabriel roll his eyes again. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Fox.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean interrupted sharply. “Are you really telling me you’re all okay with this?” He looked around the table and got an affirmation from them all. Even Castiel nodded at him, surprising and warming Spencer a little bit. Snorting, Dean practically threw himself back in his chair. “Great. Cause dealing with that dick is just _so_ much fun. I can’t _wait_.”

Oh, no, no. Spencer cut that one off at the pass. There was no way he was bringing Dean along with him. Not to a meeting like this. The point of going to talk to Crowley was to get information out of him; not to antagonize him until he tried to kill them. Diplomatic relations weren’t exactly Dean’s forte. “Yes, well, luckily for you, you won’t have to deal with him. I don’t plan on bringing you with me.”

Dean shot up straight in his seat. “Excuse me? What the hell does that mean?”

“I thought it was obvious.” Spencer shrugged and picked up his coffee again. It had cooled a little and he used a small trick his Dad had taught him to heat it back up once more. Coffee wasn’t meant to be cold. Settling in comfortably in his chair, he took a drink before answering. “None of you get along with Crowley, nor does he really do more than tolerate any of you. Why would I bring you with me to a meeting where I’m going to be trying to get information out of him? That seems counterproductive. It’s more logical for me to simply go on my own and barter with him that way.”

“Hell no!”

Spencer's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

Temper lit Dean’s face and sharpened his gaze. He stood up and planted his hands on the table, bending down to glare at Spencer. “I’m tired of being dumped on the sidelines while you guys go off and try to handle shit. This, all of it, it falls on Sammy and I. You guys are here to help, not take over. If you’re gonna be going to gamble with a demon for information to help us out, we’ve got the right to be there to make sure the price isn’t too damn high. Either you take one of us with you, or we call this whole damn thing off.”

Spencer pushed up from his chair as well and met Dean glare for glare across the table. “There is only one person who can forbid me to do something, Winchester, and you aren’t him. I don’t need your permission or your approval to talk to an acquaintance of mine.”

“Do you two do anything but bicker?” Sam interrupted them. He gave them an exasperated look when they both turned to look down at him. Dean didn’t budge in his own glare, but Spencer flushed ever so slightly. It did seem that he and Dean tended to argue more than talk. Something about the hunter just always seemed to push those buttons with him. He gave an awkward sort of shrug, straightening up so that he wasn’t bent over the table anymore. “Sorry.”

Blowing out a breath, Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to think it’s just how the two of you communicate.”

“You two do seem to argue frequently.” Castiel said agreeably.

“It’s kind of funny.” Gabriel chimed in. “I’ve never seen you get so snippy with people who aren’t family. You’re usually so much more controlled. Why is that?”

The last words were said teasingly, just to deepen the blush on Spencer's cheeks, and they worked. Spencer straightened up a little more and smoothed his hands over his shirt in a nervous sort of gesture that only made his dad grin even more. “Yes, well, you guys have your fun discussing that. If you don’t mind, I’ve got something a bit more important to do. I’ll be back when I’ve managed to get a hold of Crowley.”

He flew away fast enough that the wind from his passing ruffled the hair of everyone around the table. Dean scowled, clearly not having been doing arguing. Before he could open his mouth and say anything stupid, Sam reached out and caught his arm. “Dean,” He waited until his brother’s attention turned down towards him. “You need to relax. This isn’t just our fight, it’s theirs too. It’s everyone’s. And Spencer doesn’t need permission from you to go and talk to his… _friends_. He’s helping us. You’ve got to trust him to do that.”

If he’d hoped his words would calm Dean down, he failed. His brother just glared at him before turning around and storming away, snapping back something about needing a drink. It was no real surprise when a silent Castiel followed after him. Sam just winced as he heard Dean stomp down into the den that he frequently used here. Something about the way the room was set up often made Sam wonder if Spencer had arranged things in there just for Dean. The comfortable chair, the mini bar, the big screen TV, the desk and computer. It was like a little ‘man cave’ as Dean had referred to it. The few times they’d been in here without anything pressing, it was inevitably where Dean ended up.

With him gone, Sam took a moment to indulge his headache and rub slightly at his forehead. He really wasn’t up for dealing with this. “Sorry about that.” He told the two angels still sitting with him. It was sort of habit to apologize for his brother. “He’s just been cooped up for days at Bobby’s, waiting for me to get better. He’s restless. I’ll find him a hunt and he’ll feel a lot better.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. I’ve raised a teenage girl, I’m used to tantrums.” Gabriel said cheerfully.

Sam winced and thanked everything that Dean wasn’t out here to hear himself being compared to a teenage girl. Then the rest of that statement sank in. Surprised, he looked up. “You raised a teenage girl?”

“I thought you knew your mythology, Samsquatch.”

It only took a second for Sam’s brain to start making the connections that, honestly, he should’ve made earlier. Spencer had called himself Fox before when they’d met with Crowley. ‘The son of Loki’, he’d said. Sam hadn’t really thought about it before because, to him, Spencer was part human, part angel, the son of Gabriel. But if his Dad really did go by Loki, if the mythology was true…Spencer had quite a few siblings that he hadn’t mentioned. So the teenage girl that Dean had just been compared to was… “Hel. You just compared my brother to _Hel_.”

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Gabriel called out.

Holy shit. A thousand and one questions popped into Sam’s mind. He didn’t even get the chance to voice _one_. Gabriel must’ve recognized the look on his face and realized what it meant. “Well, glad that meeting’s over. Catch ya later, kiddo.” And with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to start this chapter out with an apology, first, for taking so dang long to update, and with a warning. Now, I’ve done research on Loki and his children and I’ve found varying stories and descriptions for them all. Let me tell you, Hel is the absolute worst. No one can agree on whether she’s a corpse, half corpse/half beautiful woman, blue skinned like her mother – the list is endless. So I’m giving the warnings now that my representation of Loki’s children might not match up with what you know or like, but they are what I felt suited best for the story. 
> 
> Also, keep in mind for some of the different things in here, that Supernatural has already shown that the myths about some of these ‘Gods’ and such can be tweaked to suit a modern day world and don’t match up, anyways. I feel that gives me a little leeway to work with. I hope you guys like what I’ve done and if you don’t, you’re more than welcome to let me know :) Merci!

It wasn’t in the nature of the Winchesters to simply sit around waiting for things. So it wasn’t really any surprise to Sam when Dean sought him out around midafternoon the next day and told him that he had a case. Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were back at Bobby’s where they’d left the car, loading their bags up in the trunk and heading out. Bobby, to their surprise, hadn’t been home. A note on the fridge let them know he’d gone to help Rufus out with something. It had been kind of surprising to Sam that Bobby hadn’t been there for their little group meeting; then again, he’d been ready to strangle everyone after surviving through the current prank war. Still, as the car started down the road, Sam looked back at the house. “We should’ve had Bobby there for our meeting. He’s a part of this, too.”

“Bobby knows what’s going on already. We weren’t talking about anything new.” Dean pointed out. “He knows how to do research better than anyone. Besides, I’m sure your angel buddy keeps him pretty updated on things.”

Sam rolled his eyes at the ‘angel buddy’ comment. “Shut up.” It never failed to amaze or amuse him just how much of a double standard Dean could live by. Ever since they’d found out about Spencer's heritage, the personal angel jokes had been a constant. It was like Dean conveniently forgot that Sam wasn’t the only one who had his own personal angel. Or, was trying to ignore it. The back and forth dance between Dean and Castiel was becoming less entertaining and a little more pathetic to watch as time went on. The two were idiots when it came to one another, both entirely oblivious to what was so obvious to everyone else, and it was getting to the point that Sam was sorely tempted to lock them in a room together with wards to keep Castiel from flying away. The only thing that kept him from doing it was that he knew his brother was one of the most stubborn people on the planet and it would be just like him to refuse to do anything in there out of sheer spite.

He must’ve been quiet for too long because when he cleared away his thoughts, he found his brother alternating between watching him and the road with a look of concern. It was a look Sam was growing a bit used to. Ever since Famine, it was a look he got a lot from Dean, though not near as much as he’d expected. He’d sort of expected a bit more anger from Dean, a bit more shouting and lecturing and temper. Instead he’d found concern and…sometimes he thought he saw something that might be sympathy, or understanding. He wasn’t dumb enough to question it all, though. If Dean wanted to be sympathetic instead of his standard pissed off, well, Sam sure as hell wasn’t going to question it. However, he couldn’t help trying to reassure him. “I’m fine, Dean.”

“I know you are. I just…You sure you’re up for this case?” Dean asked him, casting a sideways glance at him. “There’s no shame in needing another day or two.”

“I said I’m fine. I can handle a case.” The words came out just a bit sharper than he’d meant them to.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I know things haven’t been easy for you lately and I was just trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“All right, all right. Geeze.” The older Winchester held a hand up in a gesture of peace. Dropping it to the wheel, he gave Sam another of those looks of his, one of the ones that Sam knew well. It was his ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ look. Sure enough… “Dude, what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“Nothing.” Sam said, a little too quickly.

“Right.” He drawled out. Some of the suspicion was gone now. In its place was humor. Dean looked over briefly, smug amusement on his face. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with your boyfriend out meeting up with his demon fuck buddy, would it?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Sam protested automatically. He knew better, really he did. There was no stopping Dean from saying things like that. Any protests Sam gave would only convince him even more.

Laughter filled the car. “Dude, you’re such a girl.”

“I am not.”

“So that’s not you over there sulking like the ugly chick who didn’t get asked to the prom?”

A flush built high on Sam’s cheeks. “Shut up.” Reaching out, he twisted the volume knob up, effectively ending the conversation. He ignored Dean’s smug smirk and slumped down into his seat, very much _not_ sulking.

CXCX

The case that Dean had found wasn’t that far from Sioux Falls. It was just four hours away, over in Minneapolis. In the past four weeks, eight bodies had been found next to various bodies of water around town, two a week, and those two were never dumped in the same place or even near the same body of water. When Sam looked into the women, there seemed to be nothing on the surface that connected any of them. The only things that tied them together, the same things that put this firmly in their court, were the symbols that had been carved into each one of the bodies and the fact that they were all missing almost all of the blood in their body. It was definitely enough to warrant checking out and it gave them something to focus on.

“I can’t seem to find anything else that ties these girls together.” Sam said later that day as the brothers sat in their motel room, going over the information they’d gathered.

One of the first things they’d done when they came to town was to go and check out the bodies at the morgue, since it was already early evening when they arrived. What they found was exactly what the reports had said. Symbols had been carved into the backs and chests of each victim before they’d been drained of their blood. It wasn’t vampires, which was always a first thought with blood drained bodies. There was no bite mark. They were drained by a long, smooth cut right across their neck.

Dean blew out a breath and sat back in his chair. “Yeah, me either.” Reaching out, he grabbed one of the folders on the small, rickety table, turning it enough to look at the pictures there. “What about the symbols? Anything on those?”

“Nothing so far. I know I’ve seen them before, I just can’t remember _where_.”

“All right, why don’t you focus on trying to figure out what those symbols are?” Dean said, pushing up to his feet and heading over to the mini fridge where he’d put the beer he’d bought earlier. “They’re gonna give us our best clue to what the hell we’re dealing with here. I’ll go ahead and go talk with the girls’ friends and family tomorrow morning, maybe see if I can find something that connects them all.”

Sam looked at his computer, contemplating for a moment whether or not to keep searching or take a break and actually get something to eat. His stomach was rumbling, reminding him that he’d gone most of the day without something to eat. Eventually he sighed and reached out to close it. “I think I’ll hit Spencer's library first, see if he might have some books that can help.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Turning from the fridge, Dean held up a beer, tipping it towards Sam in obvious question. When the younger Winchester nodded, he threw one to him and then grabbed his own. He popped the top and flipped the lid, smirking when it actually landed in the trash can. Instead of returning to the table, he dropped down onto his bed and kicked his legs out. “So, heard anything from your boyfriend yet?”

“Heard anything from yours?” Sam shot back.

It was totally worth any temper he was going to get from this just to see the way that Dean choked on his mouthful of beer. “Dude!” Coughing to clear his throat, Dean glared at him. “Cas isn’t my boyfriend. We’re _friends_.”

Laughing, Sam opened his own beer and took a drink before sitting back and grinning smugly at his sputtering brother. “Uh huh, sure. Cause everyone really gets into epic, sexually charged staring contests with their _friends_.”

“That’s, that’s not what you’re…I mean…that’s just how Cas is, you know that.” Dean stammered out. There was a bit of color in his cheeks, though. Scowling, he lashed back. “What about you and Spencer? That kid flirts with you like there’s no tomorrow.”

“He does not.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s always there, trying to feed you, take care of you, getting things for you and giving you those goofy shy smiles of his. He made you up that necklace to keep your dreams safe. He gave you a freaking _key_ to one of his houses! He’s totally flirting, Sammy. Awkward, angel flirting, but still flirting.”

It was Sam’s turn to blush. He very deliberately didn’t think about the little curl of warmth in his stomach. “It’s not like that! He gave me the key so that _we_ , as in all of us, could use the house as a safe house.”

“Just keep telling yourself that, Sammy.” Dean said, smirking, comfortable again now that he’d successfully turned the table.

Sam was saved from having to think of any kind of response by the sound of his cell phone alerting him to a text. When he pulled his phone out, he tried to smother down the instant smile that came when he saw the familiar name on the screen. The chuckle he heard from Dean told him he hadn’t done as good a job as he’d hoped.

Spencer: _I hope your day is going better than mine._

Well, hell, that didn’t sound good.

SW: _C not cooperating?_

It took a minute for Spencer's reply to come in. Sam was used to it; the nephilim didn’t really like texting and it tended to show a little in his speed. After a moment, he reply came in.

Spencer: _He’s not the issue. I’m finding myself contemplating fratricide. Or patricide._

Spencer: _Maybe both? I’m not sure yet._

Spencer: _How are things going for you?_

The formalness of Spencer's texting never failed to make him smile a little. It was such a far cry from the way that Dean liked to text. Or, as Sam had discovered one day, much to his shock, the way that Gabriel text. The first time he’d gotten a text from the archangel, it had stunned him. Spencer had warned him that it could happen. Still, it hadn’t prepared him for the whole slightly stunned, slightly awed feeling he got when he found that he had a _text message_ from the freaking _archangel Gabriel_. Then he’d opened the damn thing and had only been able to stare for just a moment at the picture of a moose in the wild, with the text underneath saying ‘Family photo!’. Smartass angel.

SW: _We’re on a case. Not much we can do till morning, though._

Spencer: _Want to meet and exchange information? I’ll bring the pizza_

“Hey,” Sam called out, looking up at his brother who had turned on the TV at some point during Sam’s texting conversation. When Dean looked up, he asked “Pizza and information exchange at Spencer’s?”

“Works for me.”

Sam turned back to his phone and typed out a quick reply.

SW: _Sounds good. When?_

Spencer: _Whenever you’re ready. We’re already here._

The ‘we’ part of that didn’t really register until the brothers were already on their way through the door. The sound of a deep, rough laugh was mixing in the air with the lighter sound of Spencer's laughter. A small spark of something that Sam refused to admit might be jealousy soured his stomach. He had absolutely no reason to be jealous of whoever it was that was making Spencer laugh like that. It wasn’t like he owned the young nephilim. They were just friends. Guardian and charge. Nothing more than that. Sam reminded himself of that firmly as he shut the door behind him. Then he turned and followed after Dean in the direction of the living room, his brother most likely following the scent of the pizza. It didn’t take him long to find it. The coffee table in the living room was covered with four large pizza boxes, a stack of plates next to them.

Sam’s eyes, however, went to the two figures over at the loveseat. Spencer was sitting on the floor with his back against the love seat, long, jean clad legs stretched out in front of him and his shoes gone, showing a pair of mismatched socks. He was in a too-big Caltech hoodie, hands tucked into the front pouch pocket, and his head was thrown back as he laughed, showing the long expanse of pale throat that had Sam swallowing heavily. He had to force his eyes up and away. Once he did, his gaze was caught up by the giant of a man sitting on the loveseat behind Spencer.

Even sitting down there was no doubt that this guy was large. He took up most of the loveseat. Sam had a feeling that the guy would be taller than him if he stood up. He would definitely be broader. Clad in only a pair of slightly torn up jeans—no shirt, no shoes, not even a pair of socks—it was easy to see the muscles under all that body hair and tanned skin. Brown hair hung messily to almost his shoulders, with hints of honeyed highlights. But it was the golden eyes peeking out past the shaggy bangs that gave Sam an idea as to who the guy might be. The rough, mountain man look to the rest of him added on to that idea, as did the sharp grin that he found leveled his way. “I think your friends are here, Fox.” The guy said in a voice that was as low a rumble as his laugh had been.

Spencer looked towards them as well and one of those bright, unrestrained smiles of his that so rarely made an appearance was lighting up his face. “Oh! Hey, guys. Come on in, get comfortable.” Though his texts before had been frustrated, Spencer sure looked to be in a good mood now, his eyes sparkling with just a hint of that golden light to them. His smile stayed in place as the brothers came in and settled down on the couch. With one hand, Spencer gestured behind him at the man on the couch. “Guys, I’d like you to meet my oldest brother, Fenrir. Fen, these are Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Freezing halfway towards reaching for a slice of pizza, the oldest Winchester looked over at them with raised eyebrows. “Wait a second—Fenrir? As in, _the_ Fenrir? Aren’t you supposed to be a giant freaking wolf or something?”

All eyes in the room turned towards him. Sam knew his own expression would be showing his surprise.

It earned them all a scowl. Dean snatched up some pizza, dropping it onto a plate. “Would you two quit looking so damn shocked when I say things? I’m not stupid.”

“Don’t hide it so often and people won’t act so surprised when you show it.” Spencer quipped.

Behind him, Fenrir let out another of those deep laughs, and he reached out to ruffle Spencer's hair, much to the young nephilim’s obvious annoyance. “You know how it goes, pup. Better to let people underestimate you.” He smirked at the scowl that he got and then looked back up at the brothers. “It’s good to meet you guys. I’ve heard plenty about you both.” When the two looked down at Spencer, it made Fenrir laugh yet again. “Not just from him, or from Dad. You two have quite the reputation all on your own.”

“Is that so?” Dean said. He cast a look at Sam, puffing up just a little at the idea that they had a _reputation_.

Fenrir’s grin turned sharp. “Oh, yeah. When this is all done and over with, we should find a hunt together. You look like the type of guy to appreciate a good nest of vamps. Or taking out a pack of those filthy mutts.”

There really was something just a little scary about the grins those two shared at that. Privately Sam made a promise to himself to not be present when those two went on that kind of hunt. He could play clean up afterwards, no problem, but he doubted he wanted to be anywhere nearby when the two let go.

Part of Sam was fighting hard not to unleash the thousands of questions that had bubbled up in him. He’d been holding on to them for quite a while now. Ever since he’d found out who Spencer's father was, he’d kept his questions to a minimum, not wanting to push too much no matter how much the scholar in him wanted to ask. It was harder now that he was sitting the same room as _Fenrir_. A Fenrir who wasn’t wolf shaped like he’d expect, but who was this mountain of a man, though there was a definite feral, animalistic look to him.

That part at least was explained when Fenrir answered Dean’s earlier question. “The pup here figured it’d go over better if I met you guys like this instead of the way I usually look. Not everyone responds all that well to a giant, talking wolf. That’s usually how I prefer to be, though. I like it more than I like being like this.”

Sam couldn’t quite hold himself back at that. “You can change back and forth?”

Golden eyes moved towards him and he was struck with just how much they looked like Gabriel’s, even down to that spark of humor that the trickster/archangel always had there. “I can. Jor and I both can. An Hel’s got enough of Dad’s powers to hide her looks under an illusion. We can all pass for human when we want to.”

There was another question that sat right on the tip of Sam’s tongue. This one, however, he fought to hold back. Asking would’ve been extremely rude. So it really should’ve been no surprise when Dean asked the very thing Sam wanted to know. “I thought you were supposed to be chained up somewhere.”

“Dean!” Sam hissed, smacking his brother’s arm.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Fenrir interrupted before Dean could snap anything back at Sam. He dropped a hand on Spencer's head, too, a gesture obviously meant to calm. Spencer was glaring daggers at Dean. “It’s fine. I knew someone would ask. I _am_ bound.” Holding out his hands, he showed them his wrists, and for the first time Sam noticed the thin, shining ribbon that sat around each wrist like a bracelet—or a shackle. A quick glance showed them around his ankles, too. “There was no way Dad was going to just leave me hooked up to some rock, though. The shackles, we can’t get those off, but he’s done enough that I’m not pinned down in one place. Besides, legends get most of the story right, but not all of it.”

“And the whole story isn’t anyone’s business, anyways. Nor is it why I invited any of you here.” Spencer interrupted sharply. “I assumed you two came here to talk about Crowley, not interrogate my brother.”

One of Fenrir’s hands came down and popped Spencer on the back of the head. When the nephilim scowled up at him, he glared right back. “Behave.” He warned him. Then he looked up at the brothers and his expression smoothed out. “Ignore the pup. He’s just sulking cause Dad sent me along on his private demon meeting.”

“I was handling it just fine!” Spencer snapped.

Fenrir looked amused at that. “Is that what you call it? From where I was standing, it looked like the sulfur sucker was getting a little up close and personal.”

A pang shot through Sam and his eyes darted quickly to Spencer, who was both blushing and glaring, an interesting combination. “He was just flirting!” Spencer insisted firmly. He was still glaring at Fenrir, but his eyes darted briefly over to Sam. “It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just what he does. It’s how we talk with each other. I wasn’t actually going to let him _do_ anything.”

Things could’ve easily progressed into an argument there. Sam recognized it; he’d been in the same boat before with Dean. It was kind of interesting to look at the two and see something like what he was so used to experiencing with his own brother. Before this, he never would’ve even guessed that Spencer had any siblings. There was just something about him that screamed ‘only child’. But now that he could see them here, together, he could see it. Could see the little brother that was coming out in Spencer.

“How about we skip the tantrum and you just let us know what the hell he said, huh?” Dean said, cutting past the bullshit with his usual tact. “He gonna help us or not?”

There was a brief moment when it looked like Spencer might protest on principal alone. Then his expression smoothed out and he wore that calm mask that Sam was only just beginning to realize _was_ a mask. “He’s going to look around and see what he can find. It might take a few days, he warned, but he’ll let me know as soon as he has anything.”

“What’d it cost?”

“One of the many favors that he owes me.” Spencer said. He didn’t elaborate on it any further and none of them bothered asking. This was one of those moments that even Dean could see there was going to be no moving him. A wave of his hand and he was suddenly holding what smelled like a cup of coffee; until Spencer, Sam had never met anyone who drank as much coffee as they did. “Now why don’t you guys tell me about the case you’re working on?”

It was Sam who laid the case out for him. He walked Spencer through it all while he leaned forward and served himself from the veggie lovers pizza box. “We’ve got eight bodies dropped in the past four weeks. Two a week—the first one always on Monday and the second always on Thursday. They’re all dropped near, not in, bodies of water, but the two are never near the same one. Whoever this is, they spread them out.”

“Is there a police presence around the water?” Spencer asked. He folded his legs in, elbows resting on his knees, and his expression turned curious.

Dean nodded his head. “Yeah. Somehow, the bastard gets by them.”

“What makes it a case for you two?”

“Aside from them being almost completely drained of blood? This.” Sam opened up a picture on his phone of the symbol on the back of one of the victims and then tossed it over to Spencer. The genius was saved from having to try and catch by his brother, who reached out quicker than one that big should be able to move, catching the phone and then turning it for both him and Spencer to look at. Spencer kept sipping at his coffee while Fenrir did something, maybe zoomed in a little. A small furrow appeared between Spencer's eyebrows. “I’ve seen that somewhere before.” Spencer murmured.

“I think I have, too.” Sam said. “I just can’t remember _where_.”

Spencer turned his head enough to look up at Fenrir, who shook his head. “You got me, pup. I don’t recognize it.”

“Hmm.” Spencer looked at the picture a moment longer before nodding to Fenrir, who tossed the phone back to Sam. Settling back in against the love seat, Spencer took a drink from his coffee. “I know I’ve seen it somewhere. I’ll look into things while you guys get some sleep. We can meet up in the morning for breakfast at the diner down the road from your motel. Hopefully I’ll have something for you.”

“Don’t you need sleep, too?” Sam asked.

A small smile curved Spencer's lips. “Remember? I don’t require the same amount of sleep that regular humans do. I’ll be fine.”

“Wait a second…how do you know where we’re staying?” Dean interrupted, his words slightly garbled around his mouthful of pizza. “Or that there’s a diner down the road?”

Spencer looked surprised by the question. His eyes darted over to Sam, slightly confused, and then back to Dean. His tone reflected the confusion in his eyes. “Sam prays to me every time you guys enter a new town. He always makes sure I know where you guys are, just in case. He let me know when you first arrived at the motel. I’ve been to Minneapolis, so it wasn’t hard to figure out where you were. I know you have a fondness for those types of diners and there’s one that’s 1.43 miles down the road from where you’re staying.”

“I’m surrounded by nerds.” Dean said, shaking his head.

That made Fenrir laugh even as Spencer and Sam both glared at Dean. “You get used to it.” Fenrir told him with a grin. There was mischief in his eyes and Sam thought to himself that, oh yeah, there was no doubt this was Gabriel’s kid. He had his Dad’s humor for life.

Spencer rolled his eyes at that. Vanishing his cup with a wave of his hand, he pushed up to his feet. “Well I’ll leave you guys to the pizza. I’m going to go down and get started sifting through the library. Winchesters, just leave the pizza here when you’re done, I’ll put it away when I come back out. And Fen, you can go and report to Dad that I made it away from Crowley with all my parts intact.”

Impulsively, Sam set his plate of pizza down, his piece mostly finished. “I’ll come down with you.” He said, startling Spencer. “That is, if you don’t mind. I’d like to grab a book or two and bring it back with me to look at tonight.”

Spencer smiled ever so slightly at him. “Of course.”

Avoiding Dean’s smug look and the slight smirk that Fenrir wore, Sam pushed up to his feet and followed after Spencer as the genius led the way through the house and down towards the library. It was one of Sam’s favorite rooms in the whole house. He’d spent a lot of his time here in this room and was quite familiar with it now. Because of that, he moved easily, going right to the section that he needed to grab the books he’d been thinking of earlier. His plans had been to come here in the morning and look at books but there was no harm in taking them out now. Besides, it gave him a moment to watch his friend, away from the watchful eyes of their respective older brothers. Here, away from them, Sam was able to study Spencer's face, albeit discreetly. What he saw had him worrying a little. Spencer's eyes carried the bruised look of someone not getting enough sleep, or not sleeping _well_. He moved a little slower, a little clumsier, than he normally did. Not that Spencer was ever really all that graceful when he was thinking. Sam had noticed a while ago that engaging Spencer's brain seemed to disengage his coordination and grace. He tended to get a bit klutzy when he was thinking or focusing on other things. But this? This just looked like he was… _tired_.

It reminded him that he wasn’t the only one who had gone through some seriously rough days. He hadn’t been the only one to have to go through withdrawals and detox. While he didn’t know the whole story, he did know that Spencer had battled his own drugs, his own addiction. He was healing, just the same as Sam was. He just tended to hide it so well it was almost easy to forget about it. He wasn’t hiding it right now, though. Whether that was because he was too tired to do it or because, and this thought warmed Sam a little, he didn’t feel the need to hide it around Sam, either way it was showing a little and it brought Sam’s concern up a little more.

All of a sudden Spencer looked up from the book he was holding and Sam didn’t react quick enough. Their eyes met and Sam flushed ever so slightly at getting caught staring. Spencer got that little furrow between his brows again and tipped his head in the move that seemed to be an angelic trait. Understanding the silent question for what it was, Sam debated only for a moment before he asked “Are you okay? I mean, I know you said you don’t need as much sleep, but you look—tired.”

The expression on Spencer's face softened and his lips twitched it what might’ve been a smile. He didn’t bother denying Sam’s words. He was honest, as he always seemed to be with Sam. “It’s been a rough few days.”

“Yeah, it has.” There was no denying that. “That’s why you should get some rest while you can. Our case will still be there in the morning and we’ve still got a few days before the next body will be dumped.”

Something passed through Spencer's eyes then. It dimmed them just a bit until the warm color was a muted, darker brown, without the usual hints of gold that Sam liked to see. Then he blinked and it was gone again almost as quickly as it’d come. He looked up at Sam and his smile was almost gentle. “I’ll be all right, Sam. But thank you, for worrying.”

Embarrassment colored Sam’s cheeks and he dropped his gaze. What on earth was it about his angel that made him feel like a teenager all over again? He shrugged one shoulder and tried to go for casual. “You’re my friends, Spencer, of course I worry.” There was an undercurrent of something in his words, though, that he knew Spencer caught on to. It was something that had been running underneath a lot of their words lately.

The quiet moment was broken suddenly by the sound of Dean’s voice echoing down the hall to them. “Sam! Sammy!”

They both jumped slightly at that. Sam felt his blush deepen and saw that he wasn’t the only one whose face was red. Spencer was blushing just as hotly, his gaze down on the books in his hands. Sam bit his lip and contemplated saying something, though he had no idea what, only Dean was calling out his name again and the moment was lost. “I ah, I better go.” Sam said quickly. He held the books to his chest and stepped back, moving towards the door. He couldn’t help but stop in the doorway, though, looking back to find that Spencer was watching him. “I’ll…we’ll see you in the morning?” He asked.

Spencer nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just text me when you’re up. Or pray. You know, either one. Whatever you want.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

One last smile and then Sam turned and was hurrying down the hall towards his brother, cursing himself for sounding like an idiot, for getting so flustered, and cursing his brother for his really shitty timing. Whatever had been about to happen in there, he had no idea, but Dean was starting to get a knack for cutting in to these kinds of moments, and Sam resolved to try and beat that habit out of his brother at some point.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about how slow I've been lately, so here's another update not long after my last. I hope I'm not losing you guys out there!

If Sam had thought that Spencer looked tired yesterday, it was nothing compared to the way he looked today. As requested, Sam had text Spencer once they were ready for breakfast, and the young nephilim had text back to let him know that he’d be waiting for them there. Sure enough he was already there when the brothers showed up. They could see him through the window as Dean parked the car. He was curled up in a back booth with books spread out on the table in front of him and what looked to be a notebook, one hand curled around a mug of what Sam felt pretty safe in guessing was coffee. He was wrapped up in another hoodie, this one blue and, if Sam was seeing right from this distance, decorated like the TARDIS. His hair was pulled back from his face in a messy bun that looked like it was being held in by a pencil or a pen. He’d probably done it quickly, just to get his hair out of his face, though little bits still dipped down to hang in his face. But not even those bits of hair or his bangs could hide just how tired he looked. The bruises under his eyes had deepened a little and there was a slump to his body that had Sam biting his lip to see.

He wasn’t the only one to notice it, either. Dean had shut the car off but he hadn’t made a move to get out yet. His eyes were on the window, too, and when he spoke suddenly there was a gruff note to his voice that Sam was familiar with. It was the one that Dean used when he was worried, only he was too much of a tough guy to really show it. “Man, he looks like a long stretch of rough road.”

“He said he’s doing okay.” Even to Sam’s ears, that sounded weak.

A snort showed just what Dean thought of that. “I can’t believe his brother let him leave the house looking like that.” Left unsaid was the implication that Dean never would’ve let Sam leave looking that way. Back in the day, before things went crazy, before the Apocalypse and trips to hell and all of it, it would’ve been true, too. If Sam had looked like that, no argument he’d given would’ve been able to convince Dean to let him out of the room. Hearing that fierce protectiveness that had been so absent from their relationship was enough to warm a bit of the cold places inside of Sam where he’d privately missed his overprotective big brother.

“I get the feeling he doesn’t really let people tell him what to do.” For all that Spencer had looked like any other little brother last night in his big brother’s presence, there was still that independence to him, that strong self-sufficient streak that Sam had noticed right from the start. The one that told him that this was someone who was used to taking care of themselves and even the people around them.

Dean shook his head and pulled his keys from the ignition. “That’s cause little brothers are stupidly stubborn. You just gotta know how to handle em.” He cast a sly smirk Sam’s way before slipping out of the car.

There was no way Sam could just let that one go. He climbed out of the car quickly, before Dean could get away from him. “It comes from having to deal with annoying big brothers.”

“What are you talking about?” Pausing to open the door to the diner, Dean flashed him a grin. “I’m awesome.”

“Uh huh, just keep telling yourself that, Dean.”

They continued to bicker on their way to the table. Spencer didn’t once look up from the book that he was skimming through, but once they got close to the table he greeted them in an absent sort of way. “Good morning, gentlemen. I trust you had a good night?”

Dean slid down into the booth first, knowing that Sam needed more leg room than he did and that it was easier for him to take the outside. “Better than you, it looks.”

It took a second for that to register. Spencer blinked a few times to clear his eyes and then looked up at them just as Sam sat down. “I’m sorry, what?”

“When was the last time you slept, kid?” Dean asked him, giving him a very obvious look over.

“Last night.” Spencer answered promptly.

“I don’t mean nap. I mean actually slept, in a bed, all night long.”

With a roll of his eyes, Spencer set his pencil down and then curled both hands around his mug. He took a long drink of his coffee and very deliberately didn’t answer. He was saved from having to by the appearance of the waitress, something that Sam didn’t think was coincidence. It was a tactic he’d used himself on occasion. See the waitress coming and delay answering, hoping that dealing with the waitress would be enough of a distraction that the whole conversation would be forgotten by the time they were gone. Too bad it never really worked with Dean. He was too damn stubborn for it. Once he got something in his head, he wasn’t the type to let it go easily.

Their waitress was a pretty young woman. No older than twenty, Sam guessed, with curling blond hair and bright blue eyes, and a figure that had Dean waking up and smiling. She smiled right back at him as she handed out menus and served up coffee, topping off Spencer's cup before she left. Spencer was already back into whatever it was on the book in front of him. His gestures were absent as he reached out to get the cream and sugar. A little too absent. He almost knocked over the container that held all the little mini cups of creamer in it. Sam darted a hand out, steadying it for him, and he couldn’t help but smile a little at the fact that Spencer didn’t even notice. Talk about being stuck in your head. “So, what’d you find out while working last night?” Sam asked, pulling up the menu and giving it a quick look over. Might as well get this conversation started and maybe save Spencer a little of Dean’s helpful interrogation on his sleeping habits.

“I’m pretty sure I know what you’re up against.” Spencer said.

Now that caught their attention. Dean looked up from his coffee, eyebrows lifted, and Sam sat up a little straighter, his entire focus on their friend.

Reaching down to the small stack of books on the bench beside him that Sam was just now noticing, Spencer sifted through them before pulling one up. It looked old; extremely old. Bound together with what Sam thought might be bits of leather. Spencer held it carefully, as if it were fragile. His fingers easily found the bookmark there and slipped the book open. Then he turned it around so it was facing the brothers and he set it down on the table. Lying right there on the page was an image of both the symbols carved into the chest and back of all the bodies. The text around it was in a language that Sam didn’t even recognize.

“It took me until just a little over an hour ago to find this. I had to go to Singer’s to find it. This was one of the ones I brought to him.” Spencer told them. “The text took a little bit to translate, too. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any writing like this.”

Sam leaned forward, fingers itching to take the book and flip through it. “I’ve never seen this. What is it?”

“A very old, thought to be dead language, used solely by witches back in the thirteen hundreds.”

One word in that stuck out more than the rest. “Witches.” Dean said it like it left a foul taste in his mouth. Rocking back in his seat, he sighed and glared at the book. “Great. Freaking witches.”

Surprisingly, Spencer looked just as annoyed by it all. “I know.” At their surprised looks, he raised an eyebrow. “What? I have every right not to like them. Do you realize how valuable parts of me are to a witch? Even if they only know me as Fox, parts of me are still valuable. I’ve had to carefully warn away more than one witch in my time.” He cut off abruptly, snapping the book shut and drawing it back. A second later they saw why. The waitress had returned and was smiling brightly at them, notepad in hand. “You boys ready to order?”

“I’ll take the veggie lovers omelet.” Sam said, handing her his menu.

Dean held his menu out as well, flashing one of his most charming smiles at the waitress. “I’ll take the breakfast platter, extra bacon, extra onions.”

“No problem.” Her smile softened a little, off the flirtatious and into something sweeter, something that put Sam in mind of how people looked at small children. She turned that smile to Spencer, who was already buried back in a book, the very one he’d pulled off the table. “What about you, sweetie. You decide you want anything to eat yet?”

“No, ma’am.” Spencer answered politely. He broke from the book to give her a smile that shy and sweet and entirely too charming, lifting his mug up, which Sam hadn’t even realized he’d already finished. “More coffee would be appreciated, though.”

“I’ve half a mind to tell you no.” Yet, despite her words, she turned back to the counter and brought over the pot, refilling his cup. “That much coffee isn’t good for you, sweetie. You need something of sustenance or you’ll make yourself sick.”

Flushing, Spencer looked down at his mug, busying himself with fixing it up the way he liked. When the waitress ‘tsked’ and walked away, Spencer cast a look up to find both men watching him with amusement. Dean shook his head and grinned just slightly at him. “Just how much coffee have you had already, kid? You’ve sure got her going into mother mode.”

“Today? Or just here?”

The humor in the booth grew. “I’m almost scared to ask, but let’s go for today.” Sam joked.

The number only took Spencer a second to figure out. “This makes cup number seven.” He lifted his mug and took a sip, a little embarrassed at the surprise on their faces. The brothers exchanged a look and then turned back to Spencer. “Damn.” Dean said. “And I thought we drank a lot of coffee.”

Embarrassment loosened Spencer's tongue and had him babbling, something he seemed to do when nervous or uncomfortable, or excited. “This really isn’t that bad. You should see me when the team is working a case. I can exist mostly on coffee. Morgan usually ends up bringing food and sticking it in front of me while I work. Or he drags me off somewhere and forces me to sit down and eat. I tend to get caught up in what I do and I just forget.” Flushing just a little more when they just stared at him, he shrugged one shoulder, trying to dismiss it. “Can we get back to focusing on this case? You _are_ interested in what I found, aren’t you?”

“All right, Einstein. Show us what you got.” Dean said.

“Okay, well, as I was saying before, this book is old, dated back to a time when witchcraft was much more prevalent.” Spencer began, one hand tapping the book for emphasis. “It’s not a book of good magic, though. This is black magic. Extremely black.”

“Of course it is.” Dean sighed out.

Seam leaned forward, curling his hands around his coffee mug and resting his arms on the table. “Were you able to find out what the symbols are for?”

“Mm hm.” Spencer nodded. He didn’t look pleased, though. If anything, he looked even more worried. “Those symbols are part of a ritual. One that uses dark blood magic. The one on the chest is to increase power in the body while the one on the back is a sort of, transference symbol, I guess would be the best translation. It prepares the blood in the body to transfer over to the one performing the ritual.”

“Prepares it how?” Sam asked.

“Well, look at it like this. We all know blood is powerful, right? It’s used in all sorts of spells and rituals and things. The use of blood itself isn’t necessarily a mark of anything evil. But blood magic like this? That second symbol, it gathers all the energy in the body and ties it to the person’s blood. Their personal energy, the power that the first symbol creates, and most importantly, the strongest power of all—their soul. It basically steals everything that a person is and ties all of that to their blood.”

Dean and Sam shared a quick, significant look, both of them thinking the same thing as a few facts started to slide into place. “That’s why the bodies were almost completely drained of blood.” Dean pointed out. To his credit, he didn’t look over at Sam, though a small part of Sam almost wished that he had. He knew they were both thinking about the same thing now; or, trying _not_ to think about it. Of all cases, did they have to get turned onto one with blood magic? So soon after Famine?

Again, Spencer nodded. “Exactly. If the ceremony is what I think it is, then the witch would have a special bowl and dagger that they’ll use to cut open the body—the slice on the victims’ necks—and they’ll drain them into the bowl. After which they’ll use a small amount of blood to paint the symbol on their own chest, one to prepare them to accept the power, and the rest of the blood will be consumed, giving them every bit of power they just drained out of that person. And trust me, that’s a _lot_ of power. Blood’s a powerful thing.”

“Well,” Dean grimaced. “Talk about some great breakfast conversation.”

He wasn’t the only one grimacing. Sam dropped his gaze down, memories tugging at him. He knew exactly how powerful blood could be. The familiar self-loathing and guilt swam in a nauseating swirl in his stomach. Before they got the chance to build, something warm brushed against him, a sensation he was slowly starting to get familiar with. It was enough to have Sam sneaking a look up and across the table. He found Spencer's eyes on him, warmed to that golden/brown mix that was showing more and more lately. When he’d first met Spencer, the gold hadn’t showed at all. Either it wasn’t there or he’d hidden it too well. Now it was showing almost all the time. In that look, there were a thousand words, countless reassurances and support, and it helped to untie the knot inside of him just the slightest bit. Not take it away completely, but at least he could breathe around it. He didn’t feel like he was going to throw up anymore.

“So, let me get this straight.” Dean looked over at his brother and then back at Spencer. “You’re saying that this witch gains all this amazing power for themselves off of just one single ritual?”

“Yes.” Spencer agreed. The look on his face showed he was on the same wavelength as Sam on this one. He looked serious, quite a bit more than Sam was used to seeing on him. “Every ritual like this gives a witch a whole lot of power. The book says that most only performed this ritual once or twice a year. Our witch has done this eight times and is showing no signs of stopping. In fact, judging by the progressive marks on each victim, the violence showed that can’t be there simply from subduing them, I think it’s pretty safe to say that the witch has gotten a taste not just for the ritual, but for the pain of their victims and the kill itself. It’s probably becoming just as important as the magic itself. And that’s a very deadly combination.”

The table was quiet as they all processed the seriousness of that.  Not even Dean had anything to say; no jokes or offhand remarks to break up the tension. They were still quiet when the waitress came back over with their food.

It wasn’t until she was gone again that the silence was finally broken. No surprise that it was Dean who was the one to do it. “All right. That book of yours say anything about how we gank the motherfucker? We need anything special, or will the regular ways work?”

“I’m still working on it.” Spencer admitted, lips twisting with annoyance. Not for Dean, but for himself, or for the book. “Translation is slow going. I only know bits and pieces of the language. Enough to get by, but it still takes a bit to muddle my way through. I can’t afford to get any part of it wrong.”

Their food was brought out then and the conversation dropped for the next little bit as the brothers tucked into their meals and Spencer buried himself once more in his book. Now that Sam knew what was in the book, the notepad Spencer had made more sense. He was working on his translations even now. A look showed that Dean noticed, too, and his brother gave him a small nod. They’d leave Spencer alone to work at this. It wasn’t the first silent breakfast the Winchesters had shared. There was an ease between them in their silence that, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to fit right into. His presence wasn’t awkward as others might’ve been. Instead of feeling the need to talk with him, or to make conversation so that the silence didn’t turn uncomfortable, they all sat there easily. Once their meals were done, the plates taken away and the coffee refreshed, only then did the silence break. Spencer was actually the one to break it. “So what plans do you guys have for today?” He looked up, folding his hands easily over his notebook, the other book closed and set aside once more. “What can I do?”

Sam didn’t miss the unspoken message underneath that question. By asking what he could do, he was letting them know he wasn’t going to try and take control of the situation. That he was just here to help as they needed. It worked to set Dean a little more at ease. Tension that Sam had barely noticed before now drained out of his older brother. “You think there’s something in that book that’s gonna tell us how to take this witch down?”

“Yes.” Spencer nodded for emphasis.

“Then you get it translated. Hopefully that’ll tell us how to deal with the sonofabitch. While you do that, Sammy, you can come with me to talk to the friends and family of the girls. Who knows? Maybe we’ll figure out something that connects them all. Being able to stop this witch won’t do us any good if we can’t find em.”

A sudden voice cut through their conversation. “Reid?”

The voice would’ve been ignored by Sam and Dean if it hadn’t been for the way their companion reacted. Instantly, Spencer's whole body went tense. His eyes widened and his body looked like it had turned to stone. It only lasted a second before the tension vanished as if it hadn’t been there at all and only a pleased sort of surprise remained. Sam wouldn’t have known it was faked if he hadn’t seen just how tense Spencer had been only seconds before. A perfectly constructed mask was in place as Spencer turned himself and looked up at the two people coming towards the table. “Morgan! Emily! I didn’t expect to see you two here.”

One of the people, the woman, was smiling brightly down at Spencer, very openly happy to see him. She was attractive, well put together in her suit with her dark hair hanging free. “We just got in late last night.” She told him. To Spencer's obvious embarrassment, she bent down and gave him a brief hug, smoothing a hand over his hair when she pulled back. “Look at you! You get away from the Bureau for a bit and the professional Dr. Reid is gone! I love the hairdo.”

His blush grew even deeper. Self-consciously, he brushed his bangs back, tucking some of the other loose hair behind his ear. “It keeps it out of my face.”

“It’s an interesting look for you, kid.” The other person said. This guy looked happy seeing him, too, but a bit more reserved. Dark eyes moved over Sam and Dean in an openly assessing gaze that left Sam wanting to squirm in his seat. Everything about these two just screamed out _Feds_ and those were the last kind of people that the Winchesters needed to be around. The tension in the arm next to his told him that Dean was feeling the same way. The guy, Morgan, looked back over at Spencer. “We didn’t expect to run into you here.”

The remark was innocent enough, if it hadn’t been for the way he was watching Spencer, trying to read things in his answer. Spencer kept cool and gave nothing away. None of his previous tension was anywhere in sight. “We’ve been on a bit of a road trip. My cousin wanted to see a few things before…” he trailed off, a hint of grief in his words that sounded so honest Sam actually felt the urge to reach across and pat his arm or give him some sort of support. Clearing his throat, Spencer put on a smile that was just a bit strained around the edges. “Well, _before_. So the group of us just sort of packed up and we’re traveling. Some family, some of Jordan’s friends.” With that last part, he gestured across the booth at Sam and Dean.

No one could ever say that Winchesters were slow. Dean smiled brightly up at them and actually stuck his hand out. “Hey. I’m Caleb, and this is my brother Bobby.”

Emily and Derek both shook his hand, then Sam’s, while Spencer finished the introduction. “Guys, these are some of the friends I told you about that I work with. SSA Derek Morgan and SSA Emily Prentiss.”

“It’s great to meet you.” Sam said politely.

“Yeah.” Dean agreed, settling back in his seat in a casual pose that Sam knew was anything but. “Spencer here’s told us plenty about you guys.” _Liar_. Spencer seemed to avoid talking about his team.

Derek looked Dean over, finally arching one brow at him. “Funny. He hasn’t really mentioned the two of you.”

That didn’t even dent Dean’s grin. “Well he wouldn’t have, would he? We’re Jordan’s friends. Didn’t really get the chance to know the squirt until we started this trip.”

“Speaking of Jordan, he’s probably wondering where we are.” Spencer interjected. His hands were already moving, gathering up all of his books and stuffing them into his bag. The notebook had already disappeared, though Sam hadn’t seen it go. Then Spencer was pushing up from his seat and the two agents had no choice but to step back a little and give him the room. Once he was upright, he smiled at them. “I know you guys are working, anyways, so I won’t keep you. But give me a call if you finish up the case quickly. If we’re still in town, I’ll see about breaking away for the evening and maybe we can all go have a bite to eat together.”

“That sounds great.” Emily said, smiling.

Derek was watching them all suspiciously, but he didn’t say anything against them. “Sure thing, Reid. I’ll let Hotch know.”

No matter how hard they tried, it had to be obvious to the observant agents just how quickly they hurried out of there. Dean quickly paid their tab and Sam and Spencer made their way out to the impala with a forced casualness. They didn’t say anything. None of them breathed any easier until they were gone and parked once more in front of the motel. Dean shut the car off and for a moment, they all just sat there, wondering what the hell they were going to do now.

Slumped in the backseat, Spencer let out a shaky breath before giving an uncharacteristic curse. “Fuck. We are so screwed.”


	9. Chapter 9

What the hell were they going to do? Spencer paced the floor inside the motel room and tried not to panic. He’d been trying not to panic ever since he’d heard Derek’s voice in the diner. This was not good; not good at all. His wings gave a nervous shuffle behind him and he knew that if the others could see them, they would’ve seen just how twitchy he really was. His wings were showing every inch of agitation that he wasn’t allowing his body to show.

The Winchesters had stepped back and were watching him as he paced. Sam looked concerned while Dean just looked sort of bemused by the whole thing.

It was Sam who decided to try and step in and calm his frantic guardian. “Spencer, I know this seems bad, but we’ve dealt with worse. Really.”

“I highly doubt that.” Spencer shot back. He ran a hand through his hair, the pencil that had been holding it up already long gone. “Do you realize who they are? They’re _profilers_. You think all the things I read off of you guys are attributed to angelic abilities or mindreading? Because they’re _not_. Mostly it’s years of working as a profiler, studying human behavior, and trust me when I say I wasn’t exactly the best one on the team. I know the most statistics, yes, and random facts, but I didn’t rank in the top at reading body language or other cues. So if I can read things about you two, what do you think they’ll get?”

“It’s not like we’re planning on going and hanging out with them.” Dean pointed out. “We’re not gonna run into them at the station, either. With real Feds around, we can’t risk faking it.”

Spencer let out a frustrated huff and glared at the older Winchester. “Are you playing stupid or is this just a natural state for you?” He demanded sharply. “The only reason the team would have to be here is to work a case—a _serial_ case. The only current serial case in this city is the same case _we’re_ working on! That means you won’t be able to go to crime scenes, to victim houses, to their friends’ houses, without the team knowing.”

Taking a step forward, Sam held out a calming hand. “We’ve avoided cops and Feds plenty of times over the years, Spencer. We know how to be careful.”

“Really? So you, what, have some magical way of getting yourself off the camera footage down at the precinct?” Spencer asked sarcastically. “Because as soon as Hotch hears there were other federal agents there, he’s going to work to find out who, and his first response will probably be to have Garcia run the names you gave and then look at the station footage.” He saw the realization hit and nodded at them. “Exactly. On top of that, the team won’t just be studying the case. If I were working this with them, with no knowledge of the supernatural, one of the things the profile would tell me is that this type of Unsub would be one to come back to the scene of the crime. They’d be the type to want to watch the chaos they caused, be a part of the panic. That’s what the team’s going to think. They’re going to be watching the crowds. Garcia will be on cameras, trying to sift through footage and run facial recognition on anyone that seems suspicious or that crops up more than once. Any scan gets run on you two, you know what’ll pop up. How on earth do you plan on getting around that?”

Only Spencer heard the soft rustle of near-silent wings. He saw Gabriel land directly behind Dean. The archangel grinned, winking over at him, before calmly saying “I can help.”

The tension in the room was broken by the furious sound of Dean’s cursing and then Gabriel’s laughter as he watched the older Winchester jump clear off the ground and quickly spin around, one hand already going to his gun. When he saw who it was, his scowl deepened, but he let go of his gun. Even Spencer had to smile a little. Sam was at least trying to smother his smirk. “Dammit!” Dean spat out. “Don’t do that!”

“You don’t seem to mind when Cassie does it.” Gabriel pointed out. He leaned back against the wall, snapping his fingers and calling up a Twix bar. He opened it, looking over at Spencer and gesturing with one of the two sticks. Spencer actually contemplated it for a second and then nodded. He smiled as one of the candy bars came flying his way.

“Yeah he does.” Sam said, chuckling. “Cas just gives him that _look_.”

Taking a bite off the remaining Twix bar, Gabriel snorted, giving the perfect look of big brother disgust. “Ugh. I know that one. That, don’t-hate-me, I’m-so-pathetically-naïve-and-cute look.”

Spencer glared at both his charge and his father. “Be nice.” He scolded them firmly. “He’s still learning about human interaction.”

“Dear Father.” Gabriel froze, eyes wide and expression almost horrified. “Please tell me you’re not trying to teach him?”

“What’s wrong with me helping him?” Spencer demanded, abruptly forgetting about the actual conversation they should be having. What was his father trying to say here?

“Talk about a case of the blind leading the blind. I love you, kiddo, but social situations are not your strong suit.” Turning towards the brothers, he held up his half a Twix bar and gestured towards them with it. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things this kid gets himself into. I mean, this one time I went to visit him when he was still in college…”

There were a multitude of stories that could follow that opener and none of them were stories Spencer wanted to share with his friends. “Dad!” He tried to glare but couldn’t quite keep the heat off faint blush off his cheeks. “Can we not get into those kinds of stories right now? You were staying something about being able to help before.”

Gabriel chuckled at his embarrassment. ‘Later’, he mouthed at the boys. Out loud, he said “Of course I can help. You could help, too, if you weren’t so exhausted, and don’t think we’re not going to be talking about that. You’re still human enough that you need _some_ sleep.”

That was definitely a topic that Spencer didn’t want to get into right now. Or, at all, really, if he had anything to say about it. His sleeping habits weren’t something that he wanted to get into with anyone. What happened while he slept was still something that was secret. “Can we focus on the important things here?”

“Who says we even want your help?” Dean chimed in.

Arching one eyebrow, Gabriel popped the rest of his candy bar into his mouth. “You got a better way to get in and out of crime scenes without being recognized, Dean-o?”

“Maybe I just don’t trust you.”

Gabriel’s grin grew bright. “Smart boy.”

“Dean.” Sam interrupted carefully. “If there’s anyone powerful enough to hide you, it’d be him. Spencer's right—we can’t go out there like we usually would. There’s going to be too much against us.”

The scowl on Dean’s face grew deeper. He turned away from Gabriel and over towards Sam. “I’m not going with this douchebag to visit victim families!”

“What choice do we have?” Sam asked. He met Dean stare for stare, not backing down.

Who knows how long their standoff would’ve lasted. Spencer saw what was going to happen seconds before it did; there was no time for him to shout out any kind of warning. He’d barely opened his mouth when Gabriel rolled his eyes and held up one hand. “This is taking too long. I’ve got things to do later, so let’s get this show on the road. We’ll be back!” and with a snap of his fingers, he and Dean were gone.

Sam and Spencer stood staring at the spot the two had just vacated. A low groan built in Spencer's throat and he lifted a hand to run it over his face. Oh, yeah, that was going to go over so well. He could just imagine the kind of language Dean was probably employing right then. He didn’t like Gabriel, didn’t like traveling by ‘angel air’, and he definitely didn’t like being essentially told what to do. “If they make it back without injuring one another, it’s going to be a small miracle.” Spencer said lowly, still hidden behind his hand.

“No shit.” Sam agreed. He huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I used to think my life was crazy, back when I was a kid. I had no idea just how simple I had it back then.”

A low chuckle slid from Spencer. Dropping his hand, he couldn’t help but smile at Sam. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect it to get any better. Wherever Loki goes, craziness follows.” Sharing a laugh with Sam, it eased some of the tension in the room, pushed back just a little of the gut gripping fear that had built when he’d run into his friends at the diner. There was nothing that he could do about them right now. No way to stop whatever was going to happen. All he could do was deal with it when it happened. Until then, they had a case to work. “While they do their fact finding, what do you say we start doing our own research here? I brought another few books with me that might have some things to help us potentially counter some of the blood magic. Maybe even contain it. Would you like to look through those while I continue on with the translation?”

He’d never met anyone before who enjoyed research quite the way that he did. Seeing Sam smile at the stack of books that were set down on the rickety table, it just made Spencer's smile grow. Sam flashed that grin up at him, just a hint of dimples peeking through, making Spencer's heart skip a beat. “Sounds good to me.”

CXCX

It was hours later that Gabriel and Dean returned to the motel room.

They arrived as quickly as they’d left. Though Spencer sensed them coming, he didn’t bother looking up, and Sam heard nothing. It allowed the angel and the hunter to stand there for a minute and stare at the two men sitting at the table with equal looks of amusement and disgust. They were both willing to bet that neither Spencer nor Sam had moved at all for the entire two hours that the others had been gone. Spencer was curled up in one chair, his heels tucked on the chair and a notebook balanced on his thighs, the book he was translating in one hand and a pencil tapping away in the other. Beside him, Sam was hunched over in his chair, sitting in front of his laptop and scrolling with one hand while drinking a cup of coffee with the other. Spencer's mug sat empty on the table and the pot stood on the counter with just dregs left inside.

“We’re surrounded by nerds.” Dean said, looking completely disgusted by this fact, and finally alerting Sam to their arrival. “I don’t know which one’s worse.”

“Mine. At least yours remembers to take a break occasionally.” Gabriel said immediately.

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Only cause I prod him. Otherwise, he’d be sucked in forever and he’d starve to death.”

“Yeah, but he’s got an excuse, sort of.” Gabriel argued. “He has to get up and go find himself food if he wants to eat. Mine can have a full course meal with a wave of his hand, yet he’ll still miss meals if you don’t remind him.”

The two at the table didn’t look up through any of this. But Sam made a soft, amused sound as he clicked on the next webpage. “They do realize we can hear them, right?” He asked.

Spencer hummed low in his throat and scribbled down a quick note on his notepad. “I’m not sure.” He shrugged one shoulder, not even bothering to look up. “I believe they’re trying to be amusing, but I could be wrong. I tend to miss those kinds of things.”

“I think it’s their not-so-subtle way of telling us it’s time to take a break.”

A hint of a smile touched Spencer's lips. “My Dad? Subtle?” He scribbled another note and shook his head.

The book and pencil in Spencer's hands vanished, as did his notepad, all of it reappearing on the table with a bookmark in place in the book, and a bowl of sweet and sour chicken and white rice appeared in its place. Spencer let out a low laugh and looked up, smiling first at Gabriel and then at Sam. “See? _This_ is how Dad lets me know it’s break time.”

Sam’s eyes darted up from the screen, warm with good humor. “Subtle like a hammer.”

“Or an anvil.”

“Aren’t you two just hilarious.” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes.

Spencer picked up his fork, preparing to take a bite when he realized that Sam still had nothing. He furrowed his eyebrows and gave a wave with his fork. Sam’s laptop closed, the pages bookmarked, and a bowl of chicken Caesar salad appeared on top of it. There. Content now, Spencer went back to his own food. He speared the first bite and looked up at his Dad. “So, you two are back all in one piece. That’s nice to see.” Albeit surprising. He’d been sure there was going to be a war.

“You seem almost, dare I say, friendly.” Sam added in. He took a bite of his salad, watching them carefully.

Snorting, Dean looked over at Gabriel and then came over to the table, dropping down into the last chair. “Yeah, well, we got a few things straightened out.”

“Once he realized he can’t kill me.” Gabriel added in helpfully.

“I still say it’d be damn fun trying.”

Ignoring it as Sam started to pick a little at his brother for “…such a big boy, making friends…” Spencer turned his head towards his father and cocked an eyebrow at him. _Really, Dad – how on earth did you manage it? I was sure Dean would try and kill you the instant you landed. He’s not exactly shy about his opinions on you. Or about flying._

 _I’m not stupid, little fox. I kept us public enough that he couldn’t risk anything more than a bunch of whispered threats._ Gabriel sent back smugly.

_Tricky trickster._

_Thank you, thank you._ He winked at Spencer and grinned broadly. Then, interrupting the brothers without the slightest hesitation, he said “All righty then. Well, looks like you boys got this well in hand and Dean-o here has all the information, so I’ll let you get to it. I’ve got to go see a man about a horse.” A snap of the fingers and he was gone from the room.

Spencer looked at the spot where he’d left and made a mental note to try and pin his father down later and talk to him. There was something going on there; something that he wasn’t telling Spencer. He’d expected Gabriel to try and stick to them like glue once he’d found out what was going on. It would’ve made the most sense. For him to stick around, always bugging everyone, playing jokes on them, getting involved in everything. That was more his style. Only, he kept appearing randomly and disappearing just as quickly, always off to do something else. That was unusual. Especially considering the case they were working. The trickster was planning something. What it was, Spencer had no idea, but it was something. What’s more, he didn’t want everyone knowing that he was planning it. The reasons for that could either be very good or very _bad_. Until he got the chance to talk to him, he wouldn’t know.

He saw the suspicion that seemed to settle over the brothers at Gabriel’s abrupt departure and, though he didn’t know what was going on with his father, he’d do his best to cover for him until they got the chance to talk. To that effect, he sought to distract, dropping his tone to something dryly amused. “I’m not sure if I should worry about him bringing back an actual horse or not. I wouldn’t quite put it past him.”

The image of Gabriel returning to them in their hotel room with a horse in tow was enough to break up some of the tension and startle out laughter. Satisfied with that, Spencer smiled.

“All right, all right.” Sam drew them back onto topic, the case more important than the rest of it right now. “Did you guys find out anything in your interviews?”

Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair. “We got zilch, man. Nothing. If there’s something that ties these vics together, I’m not seeing it. They don’t go to the same places, don’t know the same people. There’s not a damn thing I can see that they all have in common except that they all got caught by the same bastard. Please tell me you guys found something.”

Grimacing, Spencer shook his head. “Not yet. There might be something, maybe, but the translation is difficult. Some of the symbols in here have multiple meaning and I don’t want to get it wrong.”

“I might have something.” Sam said. At some point, he’d his laptop back over and opened it, and how the hell had Spencer not noticed that? Sneaky Winchesters. Sam held his fork with one hand, the salad bowl on the table next to the laptop, and he was using the mouse with his other hand. A minute later, he was turning the laptop to face them. The text on the screen was all in Latin and Spencer's mind quickly translated it even as Sam spoke. “I was looking at this before _someone_ shut my laptop. Judging by what I was reading, this wouldn’t stop the witch, but it looks like it might weaken him or her. Maybe enough to give us a better chance here.”

Spencer eyes scanned over text and he nodded absently. “I think you’re right. Either way, it’s worth a shot. It wouldn’t hurt anything to try.”

“What is it? A spell?” Dean asked. He hadn’t even bothered trying to read it, just looking to them for answers.

Shaking his head, Sam pulled the laptop back around again. “They’re kind of like hex bags. We make them, carry them on us, and it’s supposed to diminish the strength of any blood magic within a certain vicinity of the bag.”

“Sweet. What do we need?”

Sam’s answer was cut off when Spencer's head suddenly snapped up. The wards he’d put around the motel had activated and his whole body immediately braced. It only took him one second to close his eyes and _look_ and see just what was coming. When he realized what it was, his face lost all color. “Oh, no.” He breathed out slowly. Putting his food down on the table, he pushed up to his feet, eyes locked on the door. “Oh, _no_.”

“Spencer?” Sam asked him worriedly.

Beside him, Dean was already rising, one hand going to the gun at the back of his pants. “What is it?” Ever the hunter, always prepared for trouble.

This wasn’t trouble they were prepared for, though.

A second later, Spencer didn’t have to answer him. There was a heavy knock at the door. Spencer was frozen in place by the table, his feet cemented to the ground, so it was Dean who was left to answer the door. His surprise was easy for the nephilim to feel when the older hunter peeked through the peephole. The gun was quickly tucked into the back of his pants once more and then Dean was opening the door, a fake grin pasted on his face. “Agents. What’re you doing here?”

The door snapped open with the sharp crack of a palm and a very furious Derek Morgan came storming in. One look and he was heading straight for Spencer. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do.” The profiler told him firmly. On his heels followed Emily, who gave Spencer a mixed look of worry and apology. Dean shut the door behind them, mumbling to himself just loud enough to be heard “oh, no, please, just _come in_.”

“Morgan.” Spencer managed to say that in an almost normal sounding voice. “What…what’re you doing here?”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go back and get the team _right now_.” Derek snarled in his face. He jabbed a finger in Spencer's shoulder, pushing him back a step. “We got down to the station and heard all about the supposed FBI agents coming through there, asking questions. Funny, the footage Garcia pulled up looks an awful lot like your friends over there.”

“Morgan, I can…”

Derek cut him off before he could really get going. “I lied to Hotch for you, saying we had to go do an interview, because Prentiss swore I needed to talk to you before I said anything. So this is your one chance here, Reid. Either start explaining now, or you and your little _friends_ can explain down at the station.”

“Wow. An I thought these dudes were friends.” Dean murmured lowly to Sam.

A low grunt sounded when Sam elbowed his brother to shut him up.

None of it interrupted the two men facing off. They stared at one another, eyes locked in a silent battle. Not even Emily was really a part of it. She stood beside them, a position that put her on both sides and neither, a silent observer the same as the Winchesters, watching and waiting for whatever was going to happen.

It was easy to see when the decision was made. Spencer squared his shoulders and, though they couldn’t be seen, his wings shifted and settled behind him, his whole body preparing for what might happen because of what he was about to do. “You’re not going to believe me.” He said the words softly and simply. Not a complaint; just a simple statement of fact. His eyes moved over to Emily, drawing her in to this as well. “I only gave you half the truth before. This, it’s so much more than you know. More than either of you know. And once I tell you, there’s no going back.” He brought his eyes back to Derek once more. “I was only trying to keep you all safe.”

Derek didn’t flinch back from his stare. A hint of worry crept into his voice, though. “What the hell is going on here, Reid?”

That drew a soft huff of surprised laughter from Spencer. “Interesting choice of words.” He murmured. There was no more holding back now. Spencer had always worried that this time might come. It was here, now, and there was no turning back. He cast one last look over at the Winchesters, to Sam, and he drew strength from the support he saw there. Clear as day, he could hear Sam’s thoughts, hear the silent _It’s going to be okay_ that Sam was trying so hard to send his way, and it bolstered him. Gave him the courage to look at Derek again and say what he had to say. “I let Emily believe that I was just a Hunter. I’m sorry, Emily, for the lie. I’ve protected my secret for so long, I was terrified of what you might think or do.”

“A hunter?” Derek repeated, eyebrows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Emily, however, just nodded, not absolving him but letting him know she’d listen, and that was all he could ask of her.

Words would only get them so far. He knew that anything he said was most likely not going to be believed. This was one of those moments where actions would speak far clearer than words. Yet, this wasn’t something he had done for any mortal before and it was something that felt immensely intimate in this moment. Like he was exposing one of the most vital parts of himself. To do it in a situation that felt as volatile as this one—his heart was pounding in his chest. _It’s the only way._

Spencer drew in one last, careful breath, and then he did something he had never done before mortal eyes before. He stepped back, clearing some space, and deliberately drew his wings onto the mortal plane where they could be seen.

There was only so much space here for them. He had to be careful as he stretched them out so as not to knock into anyone or anything. But he drew out both sets, all four wings lifting and rising out on either side of him, just barely contained in this tiny space. He had to manipulate them and his grace to make them somewhat _less_ , a trick his father had taught him. It made it easier for them to fit. But they were very clearly there, four wings of varying shades of dark brown and dusted with gold.

The reactions around the room were varied. Emily looked both stunned and awed by what she was seeing. Dean looked kind of like he’d been slapped in the face. Sam… there was awe and something sort of like joy and something else entirely. The look on Sam’s face warmed Spencer straight through, down to places that he didn’t want to think about right now, yet he locked it away inside to drawn on and think about later, to enjoy.

But when he turned to Derek, the warm feelings inside faded away.

Shock and something that looked far too much like fear lit Derek’s eyes. “What are you?” he breathed out.

Heart breaking, Spencer drew his wings back in, hiding them from the room once more. The whole room was silent.

“What do you know of nephilim?” Spencer asked.

CXCX

It took almost twenty minutes for Spencer to tell his story. Or, most of it. There were still some things that he wouldn’t tell, no matter what, and some things that weren’t his business to tell. Some of the story had been helped along by the brothers. To Spencer's surprise, they hadn’t hesitated to come stand with him and put their own names out there. They explained their own part in things. By the time they were all done, Emily looked shell shocked, and Derek was just standing there, frozen. It was to Derek that Spencer looked. He could feel Emily’s shock, yes, but he could feel her acceptance. She’d already known about hunting and that made it a whole lot easier for her to believe what was going on here. But Derek hadn’t known anything. This was his first time in this world and for a man of faith, Spencer knew it had to be so hard to hear.

Hesitantly, Spencer reached a hand out, worried about the blank look on his friend’s face. “Morgan?”

The touch of his hand to Derek’s arm jolted the man back to life. Spencer watched as life returned to his features; features which almost immediately morphed into anger. Derek jerked back from him and Spencer was the one who was frozen now as he was faced with the profiler’s fury. “Morgan.” He repeated. This time, there was a pleading sound to it, begging him to understand, to listen. The anger in Derek’s face almost broke him.

“Don’t you touch me.” Derek snarled out at him. His face was like granite, hard and cold. “I can’t believe this.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in, Morgan, and I’m so sorry…”

“You’re _sorry_?” The way he said it made it sound like a curse. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you’ve kept a secret like this from us. How…How many people died cause of your secret, huh?”

The words snapped Spencer back on his heels like he’d been slapped. Emily reached out, one hand on Derek’s arm to try and calm him, murmuring a soft “Morgan…” but he just shrugged her off and took a step closer to Spencer, his eyes harder and more aching than Spencer had ever seen before. “You’ve got these insane powers, apparently, but what damn good have they done? How many times could you have stopped a bullet from coming at someone, stopped someone from _dying_? How many people have you let be hurt or killed just so you can keep your damn _secret_ , Reid?”

With each word flung at him like sharp stones, Spencer hunched in more and more, fighting not to flinch from the well-deserved pain of them. He had tried to help people, even at risk to himself, so many times, but there were countless ones he hadn’t saved. People who could’ve lived if he hadn’t been trying to protect himself. The guilt of it was almost smothering. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Sorry?” Derek let out a bitter sounding laugh that Spencer had never heard from him before and that he hoped he would never hear again. “I’m sure that’ll make it all better, Reid. People are dead, but you’re _sorry_. Their blood’s on your hands. Does that even register with you?” His eyes were so full of anger and betrayal and _disgust_. Then his lip curled up in a sneer that cut through Spencer, though nowhere near as sharp as his next words. “What am I saying? How could it? You’re not even human.”

“All right, that’s enough.” Dean’s sharp voice cut in.

Spencer had forgotten about their presence entirely. He’d forgotten that anyone else was in the room until Dean had stepped in. Only, Dean’s words were too little, too late. The damage had already been done on both sides. Derek was too furious to listen to reason and his words had already sliced far too deep inside of Spencer for them to just be brushed away. They carried all the more power because they were words the young nephilim had said to himself countless times before.

“It’s not _near_ enough.” Derek snapped right back at him. “Do you have any idea how many people we’ve lost over the years? How many people were hurt or fucking _killed_? And he had the ability to do something about it the whole time! What, were they just not important enough? Not special enough?” He spun back around and glared hotly at Spencer. “What about Hayley, huh? Didn’t she matter enough to help? Or Jack? We had no idea if he was even alive or if Foyet would get him next and you didn’t do a damn thing to go help, did you? We knew where they were. You could’ve flown ahead and stopped him. She’s dead because you’re a damn coward!”

That was the last straw. The final blow that was just too damn much. Spencer didn’t hear any of the shocked or furious exclamations around him. He didn’t even see it as Emily stepped up to yank Derek back, or as the Winchesters moved to place themselves in front of him. All he could feel was the grief that was viciously shredding at his insides. Spencer could feel his control slipping and he knew he had to get the hell away from here before it burst out on them. He couldn’t go far, he had to keep them safe, but he couldn’t be _here_.

A sharp breeze whipped through the room as Spencer took off before he’d even finished the thought.

He didn’t stop to think about where he was going or where he was going to land. He barely had enough control to at least keep himself hidden while he moved. All he’d known was that he had to get out of there. Yet a part of him must’ve still been operating normally. When he landed, he found he wasn’t far from the hotel at all. In fact, he was on the property next to it, the tiny little forest that sat at the edge of the motel property. He landed hidden amongst the trees away from everyone.

There, at the base of a thick tree, he curled his body in tight and fought against his grief, against the pain that was ripping through him. Pain he knew he deserved. Derek was right. Hayley’s death was on him. He should’ve blown his cover there at the end. They knew where Foyet was taking them and by then they knew that they weren’t going to get there in time. He should’ve just flown ahead and stopped it and damn the consequences. He should’ve _saved her_. Just like countless other people over the years that he should’ve saved. Every foul word Derek had said in there was nothing but the truth. There were so many people that were dead because he’d been too much of a damn coward to save them.

“Spencer.”

Spencer didn’t bother looking up. He’d felt him coming; he knew who was there. Why look up? If anything, he curled in tighter. The ache inside had grown stronger and he was ashamed to admit that a part of him wanted to act as the little boy he’d once been and just fling himself into a pair of arms he knew would catch him up and hold him close. They’d always been there when he needed them and they’d always brought him comfort. Only, now, he couldn’t take it. He didn’t _deserve_ to take it. Everything that Derek had flung at him had been truth. Spencer bowed his head down and rested his forehead on his knees. His arms tightened around his waist. A warm hand curled over his shoulder and he jerked lightly underneath the touch. “Spencer.” His name was said so much softer this time, sadder, infused with _love-understanding-sorrow-love-love-love_ and it was almost too much for Spencer to take. His fingers curled in even tighter until he knew he was leaving bruises on his sides. “It hurts.” He whispered achingly.

“Oh, kiddo.” The hand on his shoulder moved and Spencer felt warmth and light and the familiar music wrap him up while he was pulled into strong arms, cradled close against a solid chest. There was a rustle in the air as wings created a shelter around them. Spencer resisted only for a second. Then, with a shuddering gasp, he let himself melt into the embrace. His arms uncurled and his hands gripped at the jacket in front of him, which he pulled on just enough to bury his face against it, and maybe he was hiding a little under the edge of the jacket like some child but, _dammit_ , everything in him hurt so much and who could blame him if he wanted to just hide here against a person who always made him safe while he breathed in the scent that had always spelled _home_ to him.

One of the arms around him shifted and a firm hand threaded into his hair before pushing his face in just a little closer. “Hide all you want. It’s just you and me here.”

 _I feel like a child_. Spencer thought, knowing that his father was listening.

A soft kiss was pressed against his head. “You _are_ a child. You forget sometimes, Spencer. Just cause you’re an adult by human standards doesn’t mean anything by angel standards. You’re just a kid, little fox.” Pausing, Gabriel snorted. “I wouldn’t care if you were centuries old. You’re never too big to curl up and hide with me, you hear? I got you.”

That blatant permission shook Spencer's control and sent a small shudder down his body. His hands tightened in his father’s jacket and he drew in a shaky breath. “He’s right.”

“No, he’s not.” Gabriel cut in firmly. “He had no right to say that to you. Any of it.”

“I could’ve saved her, Dad. I could’ve saved so many people.”

“And blown your cover to smithereens. Sure, there were times over the years where you could’ve used your abilities and saved people. But if you had, if you’d blown your cover and had to go into hiding, how many people would’ve ended up dying because you weren’t there at the BAU anymore? How many people are alive today because you found discreet ways to use your grace to help?” The archangel sighed and somehow managed to infuse that sound with a weariness that carried the weight of ages. “You can’t spend your life second guessing everything, little fox. All we can do is accept the choices we’ve made and the consequences that came with them and move on.”

For a moment they just sat there quietly. Spencer soaked up his father’s presence and his words and tried to use them to steady himself once more. When he was sure he was just a little bit steadier, something came to him and he couldn’t help but ask “How’d you know I was here? I thought you were ‘seeing a man about a horse’.”

“Sam prayed to me, told me what happened. I came right away. My business can wait.”

The adult part of Spencer wanted to tell his father that their business was important and he shouldn’t drop it like that. Especially if it was something to help with all the shit that was piled on their plates right now.

Instead, he leaned in a little closer, burying his face once more, and he whispered a soft “Thanks.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, but Spencer felt at his wings tightened a little more around them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a busy week ahead of me, plus a vacation over Mother's Day weekend, so I won't be updating for about a week, week-and-a-half, just to let you guys know. But things should pick back up then, I promise! NO more long waits :D


	10. Chapter 10

Back in the motel room, the tension was high.

It had been Sam who’d sent for Gabriel. As soon as Spencer had left, so obviously hurting, Sam had sent up a prayer to Gabriel to let him know what was going on and that Spencer needed him. Then he turned his attention back to the room around him. Or, more specifically, the bastard standing in front of him. Temper spiked even higher when he saw that the idiot agent didn’t even look sorry for what he’d done. “You’re a son of a bitch.” Sam snapped at him.

Dean reached out, putting a hand in front of his brother’s chest to keep him back. Not that he was really doing any better. It was taking a lot of control not to just plant his fist in this guy’s face. Maybe Dean and Spencer didn’t always get along and maybe their friendship was sort of rocky, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care about the scrawny little shit, and it didn’t mean that he was going to stand by while someone threw a ton of bullshit at him. He had his own issues with Spencer—no one could ever say, though, that the kid didn’t put his all into everything. That he didn’t put the safety of pretty much everyone ahead of his own. Maybe he’d thought that once, maybe even recently, but that conversation after Famine had stuck with Dean. It’d made more of an impression than Spencer had realized. So had watching him the next few days. Seeing just how drained Spencer was, how hard of a time he had, and how he still was there every single day for Sam. And now, working this case with them though he looked like he was barely eating or sleeping. ‘Selfish’ and ‘coward’ were two words that Dean had come to realize couldn’t be applied to the nephilim at all.

Green eyes hard, Dean glared at the idiot Fed. “Y’know, I’ve heard Spencer call you his best friend but I sure as hell can’t see why. Cause if you were his friend, you’d know damn well that that kid is the furthest thing from a coward.”

Derek glared right back at him, not even flinching. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, I think it’s you that has no idea.” Dean shot back. He stepped slightly in front of his brother, putting himself between Sam and Derek in a deliberate move. Better than anyone here, he knew Sam’s temper and he knew just how pissed off his little brother was at the moment. He was surprised to realize that his own temper wasn’t any better. It boiled out of him as he glared at the idiotic Fed. “I’ve been working with that kid for months now and all I’ve seen him do is try and help people. There’s a lot I’d accuse the kid of, but that shit you threw at him? That was bullshit and you damn well know it.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“What about to me?” The woman interrupted. Emily, Spencer had called her. She was standing beside Derek and the look on her face was anything but pleasant. “You want to explain yourself to me? Because I didn’t bring you here to tear him apart like that. I brought you here so you could get some answers and understand, and because I thought you’d be on his side!”

Derek opened his mouth like he was going to speak, only to have Emily poke a finger in his chest, cutting him off.

“Have you stopped to think about all the things he’s done for us instead of the things he hasn’t?” She demanded sharply. “You know him, Morgan. You _know him_. Can you really see Reid standing back and just letting things happen if he could stop them? This is _Reid_ we’re talking about here! The same guy who beat himself up for weeks because an Unsub hit me instead of him. The guy who threw himself in the way of a bullet to protect someone. The guy who could barely breathe after the last case and yet still went with us to Canada.”

“He’s done a hell of a lot more than that.” Another voice suddenly said.

Sam couldn’t stop his wince. He knew that voice, just as he knew the dangerous temper that was threaded through it. Calling Gabriel had been the smart thing to do, he knew. Spencer had needed his father right then. But he’d also know it was going to be rather risky. Bringing in one seriously pissed off archangel was going to have consequences.

And there was no doubt that Gabriel was furious. Though he was leaning oh-so-casually against the wall, his eyes were hard and his smirk sharp. In that moment he looked more Trickster than angel.

“Ki?” Derek said in disbelief, surprising both Winchesters. Derek knew him?

Gabriel’s smirk sharpened ever so slightly into something that gave Sam a chill, and it wasn’t even directed at him. “I’ve met some real assholes in my time, Derek Morgan, but I gotta say, you could give a few of them a run for their money.” The archangel said, shaking his head. “A guy gives you his deepest secret, trusting you with something that could get him killed if it’s found out, and what do you do? Kick him while he’s down.” Lifting his hands, he slow-clapped mockingly. “Bravo. I can really see why he felt brave enough to take the risk in telling you. You’re really stepping up to the plate.”

The sarcasm in those words put Derek’s back up and brought the man’s scowl back, deeper than before. “Brave?” He scoffed. “He’s not brave. He’s a coward, that’s what he is.”

In a flash, Gabriel was across the room. He moved so fast there was no way anyone could stop him. One second he was on the far side of the room and the next he had Derek pinned up against the wall with a hand pressed firmly against his throat. “You watch your damn mouth.”

“Put me do--!”

The words cut off on a strangled sound as Gabriel pushed his hand a little harder against Derek’s throat; just enough to cut off his words. Derek scrabbled at his hand, trying to break the shorter man’s grip, only to find it like steel, unmovable. All he could do was dangle there and stare down at the small man who shouldn’t have been able to hold him up and yet somehow was. Gold eyes glowed with the force of the archangel’s temper. “Don’t presume to tell me what to do, you insignificant little _ant_. I could squash you, right here and right now, with just a _thought_.” Any sign of his earlier mockery was gone. In its place was fury, plain and simple. “How dare you call my son a coward? He’s done more for you than you realize, you ungrateful little bastard. Shielding you guys from nightmares, healing some of your injuries when he can get away with it, sucking in the dark and negative things that haunt your pathetic little minds so that you can have a little bit of peace. Do you really think Elle just healed as well as she did all on her own? Didn’t you wonder how Garcia recovered from that gunshot so quickly? What about all those times you’d be down from a case and Spencer just happened to be there, right when you felt like shit. Did you ever even notice how much better you’d feel by the time he left? Did you ever stop to think about it? To _thank him_? He’s taken care of the group of you in so many ways since the first day he joined and not a damn one of you ever even knew it. He’s got scars on his wings from keeping you guys safe. And he did it all without ever even wishing for any kind of thanks. _That’s_ the kind of person he is. You, you little _worm,_ aren’t fit to shine his shoes.”

The air crackled around the room worse than any of them had ever felt. The power that the others had felt from Spencer's small bursts of temper was nothing compared to this. This charged the air and carried a feeling of _power_ and _fury_ and so much threat that it had the humans all wanting to take a step back, to turn and run. It went against everything that Sam was feeling to make his body step forward, actually moving towards Gabriel instead of away. “Gabriel.” Drawing in a careful, steadying breath, he prayed he wasn’t making a mistake and lifted a hand and lightly clasped Gabriel’s shoulder. Not tugging, just resting there. The fact that Gabriel didn’t shrug him off was a good sign. Sam tried to bolster himself with that, using it to steady his voice just a little. “Don’t do this. He’s not worth it.”

“Family is always worth it. Isn’t that what you Winchesters preach?” Gabriel snapped at him.

“Family is worth it. But this guy isn’t.” In contrast to Gabriel’s temper, Sam kept his voice low and steady. “I know he hurt him. He’s an idiot—no one’s arguing that. Spencer wouldn’t want this, though, and you know that. He wouldn’t want violence, especially not over him. It would only upset him more. Is that what you want?”

There was one long, tense moment, and it seemed that everyone held their breath. Dean stood close to Sam, one hand half extended like he was going to reach out and grab him if things got sticky, and right behind him was Castiel, who was standing close and looking ready to pull them out of there as well. Sam hadn’t even noticed when he’d arrived. Emily stood off to the side, her back against the other wall, saying nothing as her eyes went back and forth between Derek and Gabriel. For his part, Derek had stilled, hands curled over Gabriel’s wrist, eyes wide and locked on the archangel’s face.

Without warning, Gabriel drew his hand back, letting Derek drop. The agent hit and slid down to the ground, his own hands going to rub at his throat. Gabriel stood over him and glared down at him, holding him in place with his glare as surely as he’d held him with his hand. “I hope you realize the only reason you’re still breathing right now is because of Spencer. Because _I_ actually give a damn about his feelings. But make no mistake, you hurt my son like that again and I won’t let you off so easy.” Squatting down, he rested his arms on his knees and leaned in, his smirk sharp and lethal. “There’s plenty I can do without ever killing you, Agent Morgan. I’ve been told I’m very, _very_ creative.”

Derek’s eyes had gone wide and he was looking at Gabriel with open fear. “Your son?” He repeated Gabriel’s words slowly and just a little shakily. “You’re…you’re an angel?”

The smirk Gabriel wore grew just a little sharper. “I’m so much more than that, kiddo. I’m the archangel who ran away from home and spent his years as a pagan god. I don’t answer to the home office anymore.” Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “Keep that in mind the next time you want to run your mouth about things you can’t even begin to understand.”

Turning, Gabriel rose and looked over at the brothers. “I sent Spencer back to the house to do his translating. When he’s got it done, he’ll come find you. If you need him, you know how to find him.” And with a loud rustle of wings, Gabriel was gone.

That left one very awkward group of people together in that hotel room. Derek was still on the floor, looking like his whole world had just been turned on its head. Which, in a sense, it had. Not only had he discovered that his best friend, someone he thought he knew, was part _angel_ , he’d been faced with the fact that angels were real, that supernatural things were real, and _then_ had been attacked by an archangel. Sam wanted to stay angry with him. Really, he did. But he knew just how hard it could be on a person to find out that everything that they’d thought were just stories were really real. He also knew how it felt to meet an angel and find out that they weren’t exactly what you thought they were.

This Derek guy couldn’t be all bad. If he was, there was no way that Spencer would’ve been friends with him for so long, or spoken of him as highly as he did. There had to be a good person in there. Maybe…maybe he was like Dean. How many times had Sam watched his brother react to things with anger? When he was scared or confused, Dean often channeled it into anger, saying or doing things that he later regretted. Maybe that’s what Derek was doing. Sam mulled that thought over for a moment. In the end, there was only one way he could react, really. How many times already had Spencer forgiven Dean for the stupid things he’d said or done in anger? Sam could at least try to afford one of Spencer's closest friends the same courtesy.

Brushing off Dean’s cautioning hand, Sam went over to where Derek was still sitting on the floor. He stopped in front of him and waited until the profiler looked up at him before holding a hand out to him. Surprise flashed over Derek’s face. Then, almost hesitantly, he reached up and put his hand in Sam’s. One good tug brought the other man up to his feet. Once Derek was up, Sam reached out with his other hand and clapped his shoulder. “You’ll be all right, Agent Morgan.”

Derek looked so shell shocked it made it a little easier to feel sorry for him. “That…he was….” Wide eyes locked on Sam. “You called him Gabriel. As in… _Gabriel_?”

“One and the same.” Sam said as he let go. A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Not quite what you expected, is he?

“And he’s Spencer's _Dad_?”

“Yeah,” It was Dean who answered this time as he moved up to Sam’s side. “An you’ve got no idea how lucky you are. He’s not exactly the guy you wanna piss off. Especially when it comes to his kids. He tends to get a bit overprotective. Plus, he’s spent the past forever playing as Loki, going around punishing dicks. Right now, you probably rank pretty high on that list.”

Emily moved up to Derek’s side and cut off anything he might’ve said to that by putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can talk about this later.” She said in a voice that was both gentle and firm. “Right now, we’ve got a bit more immediate concerns. I know the type of things that you guys hunt. The fact that you’re here in a town where we’re working a case that seems both strange and ritualistic doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me. I assume you’re here hunting?”

There didn’t seem to be any real point in hiding it. “We are.” Sam said. “We’re pretty sure it’s a witch.”

“Do you have any idea who, yet? Not that I’m trying to do your job for you.” She hurried to tack that last bit on when she saw the look that Sam and Dean exchanged. “I’m not trying to step on your toes or act like I’m a Hunter here. I know I’m not. But neither is anyone on my team. None of us are prepared to go up against something like this and I need to know who or what we’re up against here so I know how to keep them away from it.”

Dean turned to grin at Sam, lifting a finger and pointing in Emily’s direction. “I like her.” Turning back, he flashed that grin at Emily. “You wouldn’t believe how many civilians automatically assume they can do our job.”

“Civilians?” Derek said, finally breaking his stupor enough to start to participate in the conversation. Emily spoke over top of him, though. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen what your job can entail and I know where my own skills lie. I’d have no idea how to take down a witch. But I _can_ steer the team safely away from danger.” A corner of her mouth quirked up and her expression softened slightly. “I get the feeling that Reid did that a lot more often than any of us realized. Without him there, I guess it falls to me now.”

This Emily woman was as intelligent as Spencer had described her to be. It wasn’t hard to see why he liked her so much. When he’d talked about her, he’d always had good things to say about her. Sam could see why. She seemed smart and kind and her affection for Spencer was obvious. She was asking smart questions here, too, and Sam could applaud what she was trying to do. Having someone on the inside who could keep the other Feds away would really help them. But, as smart as this all was, Sam couldn’t quite bring himself to really focus on it. Most of his attention was somewhere else entirely. And he had the perfect excuse to back out of this. Reaching out, he tapped at his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, Dean?” He waited until Dean turned around before continuing. “There’s no telling when Spencer's gonna finish that translation, so we should be ready. I’m gonna head to the house and see about getting together the stuff for the hex bags. If I’m lucky, Gabe might get me whatever Spencer doesn’t have in his stores. You think you got these two okay?”

“Yeah, Cas and I got this.” Amusement sparked in Dean’s eyes and he shook his head. “Go on. Go make your hex bags and check on your boyfriend. Leave me here with cleanup. Bitch.”

It’d been a long time since Sam had heard that familiar insult said with such honest affection. He let it warm him, let his smile grow big enough that his dimples showed. “Jerk.” He shot back. Then he was grabbing his stuff off the table and hurrying over to the bathroom door. As he unlocked it, he heard Derek’s voice behind him, almost hesitantly asking “Why is he taking a bunch of books into the bathroom?”

Laughter tickled the back of Sam’s throat. He was smiling as he stepped through the door and into the safe house, shutting the door behind him. That smile was still with him when he made his way into the living room. There on the couch sat Spencer wrapped up in a very old looking quilt, his dark hair pulled back once more from his face with a pencil, the book he was translating on one knee and the notebook he was writing in on the other. He looked up at the sound of Sam’s entrance and almost immediately smiled. It wasn’t his usual smile, lacking a certain spark to it, but it was warm enough. However, the rest of him looked much better than it had before. Better than he’d looked even before the fight. The bags under his eyes were less and the exhaustion that had sat on him wasn’t there anymore. If Sam had to guess, he’d bet Gabriel had something to do with that.

He tried very hard to ignore the feeling it gave him as Spencer smiled at him and greeted him. “Hey, Sam. I, um, I didn’t expect to see you here yet.”

It didn’t escape Sam’s notice, the self-conscious way that Spencer adjusted his blanket, like he was embarrassed at being caught sitting here with it. He didn’t comment on it, though, pretending as if he didn’t notice. “Dean has explanations well in hand. Don’t worry,” He tacked on, seeing the worry that flashed briefly over Spencer's face. “I left Cas there, too. He’ll keep Dean in line. I figured they could finish explanations while I come get some things ready. I thought I’d check your pantry and see what supplies we have and what we’ll need to make the hex bags. I’ve got a shopping list, here.” He held up a scrap of paper, showing it even as he set his other books and his laptop down on the coffee table.

Spencer nodded his understanding. “Smart. I’m getting a little closer with this. It looks like there might be a spell in here I can use to trace the signature of the blood magic. If I can do that, we can track it back to the witch. We’ll need to be prepared when we do.”

It wasn’t hard for Sam to catch the silent message here. Spencer wasn’t in the mood to talk about what had happened. That was fine; Sam was used to that. It was kind of the Winchester way. Ignore a problem for as long as humanly possible and pretend that it didn’t exist. If that was what Spencer needed right now, he could give it to him. The worry he’d been feeling before had abated now that he had his friend in sight and could see that he was as okay as he could be considering what had happened. If Spencer wanted to ignore this for now, Sam wasn’t going to stop him. He let Spencer lead their conversation. “Is there anything in there about how to gank em?”

“No.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, Spencer sat back a little, tapping his pencil on his knee. “Like I said before, this book is seriously dark magic. I’ve come across ways to use the symbols, ways to gain more power, some truly vile things that can be done with it for the witch, but nothing about how to take them down. _However_ , at the same time I haven’t found anything in here that would suggest that it actually takes something special to take the witch down. Everything I’m seeing suggests that we’d kill this witch the same as we would any other. What our problem is going to be is getting past the witch’s power to actually hurt him or her.”

“Which is where the hex bags come in.” Sam supplied

“Exactly. Dad and Cas can add their protection, too. Dad’s already said he’s more than willing to come with us. This magic, it’s going to be big and it’s going to be powerful. We’re going to need all the power we can get on our side.”

“Sounds like fun.”

That teased a small smile out of Spencer. When he looked up at Sam, the gold in his eyes twinkled slightly. “Our definition of fun needs some serious help.”

“No kidding, man.”

Just as Sam turned away, Spencer called out to him. “Sam? Be careful when you go in there.” He smiled as Sam turned to look at him again. “I imagine it’s quite a mess. Dad’s experimenting in there with a new recipe for some cookie or candy _thing_. I’m not quite sure what. Apparently it’s something Mom wanted to try, so he’s going to make it up for when he goes to see her this weekend. So…be prepared. He’s a bit of an insane baker.”

“Your Dad is…baking?”

“Oh, yes.” Spencer said, nodding. “He likes making things and he loves making a mess. Why wouldn’t he cook?”

The truth of that had Sam chuckling. Still, even with Spencer's warning, there wasn’t anything that really could’ve prepared him for the sight that met him when he went into the kitchen. The sliding doors that were usually left open between the kitchen and dining room were shut, muffling the noise and music that were going on on the other side. When Sam opened them, he found himself unable to do anything more than just stand there and stare. The kitchen was an absolute _disaster_. A whirlwind of chaos at which Gabriel was at the center. The sight of Gabriel had Sam giving a surprised laugh. The archangel was decked out in an apron with a giant rooster on the front that loudly proclaimed to “Kiss the Cock” and a large chef’s hat on his head that bounced and threatened to fall as Gabriel danced to the beat of what Sam thought was music that was from the twenties. Where it was playing from, he had no idea. He didn’t see a stereo anywhere.

 The sound of his laughter had Gabriel looking up. The grin that spread over his face was almost enough to have Sam backing out of the kitchen. “Sambo!” Gabriel exclaimed happily, brandishing a whisk that was covered in something slightly thick and neon pink. “What can I do for ya?”

This cheerful, slightly insane Gabriel was such a far cry from the pissed off one that had been in the motel room earlier.

Sam looked down at the list in his hand and honestly debated just how much he really needed these ingredients _right now_. The laugh that Gabriel let out told him that the man could either read his thoughts on his face, or he wasn’t as scrupulous as Spencer and was just picking them out of his head.

“No one’s as scrupulous as that kid is.” Gabriel said, answering Sam’s mental question. “Definitely not me.”

“Stay outta my head.” Sam said it by reflex, not actually expecting that it would be listened to. He held up his list so Gabriel could see it. “I need to check the pantry for these things so I can go about preparing some hex bags for us.”

“Ahh, the blood magic repellant. Everything you’ll need is in his cupboards. I just restocked them for him yesterday. Help yourself, Sam-a-lam. Just stay away from the counters!”

Sam very carefully made his way into the kitchen. He found all the ingredients he’d need in Spencer's pantry, just like Gabriel had said, and he gathered them up in one of the cloth bags he found in there. He spared a brief moment to be amused by the fact that this pantry was half supernatural ingredients, set up so casually next to the other half of regular cooking ingredients. Any average human that saw this would be completely terrified. Powdered werewolf bone wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you expected to find near the jar of cornstarch.

He put all that’d he need into the bag and then closed the pantry doors. The whole time he’d been in there, Gabriel had continued with his baking and dancing, the music never once pausing. He had a new bowl, now, and the contents of this one looked to be purple. He paid absolutely no attention to Sam as the Hunter made his way back across the kitchen. It wasn’t until Sam was just about to exit the kitchen that the archangel spoke again. “Hey, Samsquatch?”

Sam paused at the door and turned himself just enough to look back at Gabriel, who wasn’t even turned around from where he was stirring something at the counter. Curiously staring at the back of the archangel’s head, he said “Yeah?”

“You mean a lot to Spencer, and he’s sort of fragile right now. Hurt him, and I’ll throw you in a pocket dimension inhabited by nothing but homicidal clowns.” Turning, he smiled broadly, giving no sign that he’d just threatened Sam with his worst nightmare. Then he turned back to his baking once more. “Let me know if you guys need help with those hex bags!”

Sam left the kitchen, making a mental note as he went to make sure he stayed on Gabriel’s good side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, m'dears! After I got back from my vacation, I got sick :/ I've still got a bit of a head cold, so I'm a little slower than normal, but I hope you like this. The next chapter shouldn't take near as long to get up. And once we wrap up this witch case, we should start to get into a bit more angel/demon/apoc action. Surprisingly, we're not that many chapters away from the end! :) Make sure to let me know what you think of this, y'all. Reviews are love lol


	11. Chapter 11

Even with Derek’s blowup over Spencer's big reveal, the young nephilim knew he was pretty damn lucky in the friends that he had. Derek hadn’t exactly showed his best colors earlier, true, but Spencer held on to hope that it was just the initial shock talking. That it was just the part of Derek that had grown up so religious and that still felt betrayed by a faith that had never helped him through the hell he’d had to live. Considering the beating Derek’s faith had taken, it really wasn’t a surprise that he took something like this so hard. Besides, finding out about the supernatural was hard for anyone. Hopefully, with a little time to process, he and Derek might be able to talk again and smooth this out. Fix their friendship.

Still, all of that aside, Spencer knew he had good friends around him. One of which was currently sitting not even a full foot away from him making a bunch of hex bags.

Sam had come back in from the kitchen with all the necessary supplies and had set them out on the coffee table. Then he’d surprised Spencer by sitting down on the ground between the coffee table and the couch, close enough to Spencer's crossed legs that the genius could feel the warmth from him without them actually touching. He didn’t say anything about it, didn’t make a big deal of it, just sat there on the ground and got to work like this was a normal, everyday sort of thing to do. Spencer understood the silent message here and it made his appreciation for Sam grow a little more. The hunter was silently letting him know that he was there for him and giving him the support and comfort of his presence without pushing him to talk about it. Which was great. Spencer didn’t think he wanted to talk about it anymore. He’d talked enough with his father. Had vented, both in words and tears, and then he’d pushed the raw parts of himself down and focused on what they needed to do. Personal problems could come later. Right now, the case needed to take precedence.

Even if said case was giving him a massive headache.

When Spencer lifted a hand to rub at his forehead, Sam must’ve caught the gesture out of the corner of his eye because he turned to look at him and Spencer could feel his concern. “Rough going?”

“Slow.” Spencer said, sighing. He dropped his hand back down and looked at the book once more. “I want to make sure I get it just right.”

“Can’t Gabriel help?”

Spencer shook his head. “Dad knows pretty much every language that there is, but this isn’t a regular language. It’s an entirely written one that’s essentially two languages in one and carefully coded. He’d probably understand about as much as I do, if I took a moment to tell it to him, or let him look in my head and see it.”

“So why don’t you?” Sam asked curiously.

The corner of Spencer's mouth curved up in a small smile that was both amused and mischievous. “Because my Dad is the poster child for ADHD and pinning him down to try and teach him an ancient language that was created and then coded by witches for evil purposes isn’t exactly something I find myself with the patience to attempt.”

The living room filled with the warm sound of Sam’s laughter. Hearing it, watching those dimples flash, warmed Spencer and pushed back a bit more of that rawness inside. The light of Sam’s soul seemed brighter just then, lit up with the simple happiness of the moment, and Spencer's grace responded to it with a small glow of its own that chased away some of his darkness.

The two fell into a peaceful silence after that. Well, as silent as it could be with his Dad’s music still playing in the kitchen. They could hear the muffled sounds as the song switched to something happy and upbeat. Absently, Spencer found himself humming to it, the familiar tune soothing in its own way. Gabriel had always said the twenties were underappreciated for music. In that moment, though, everything just sort of felt right. There was good music playing nearby. The warmth of his father’s grace was close enough that Spencer could feel his happiness and the love that was always there around family. And there was a warm, solid weight pressed against his right knee where Sam had leaned over just enough to press against him. The peace of it all settled into him and he relaxed into his work.

CXCX

After struggling so much with translating this part of the book, it was a bit of a surprise when Spencer looked down at the notebook in his lap and realized that he’d finished. For a while now he’d been focusing on the individual bits instead of the whole and so he hadn’t realized just how much he’d gotten done. But when he drew back to check the sentence he’d just finished, he realized just how much he had done. There on the page was the whole tracking spell that he’d told the boys about earlier. With this, he’d be able to track the signature of the blood magic straight back to the witch.

Sitting up straighter, Spencer stared down at the page, his attention sharpening as he ran over the list of supplies he’d need. Extending a bit of grace, he reached out in the direction of the kitchen. _Hey, Dad_.

Gabriel’s reply was instant. _What’s up, kiddo?_

_I’ve got the spell translated and a shopping list that needs filled. Most of it, I’m almost positive I have in my pantry, but there are a few things I need that I can’t go get._

_Let me guess – you need blood to track blood._

_Got it in one._

There was a moment of quiet and then Spencer felt it as his father flew away. Not even a minute later, he appeared in the living room on the opposite side of the coffee table from them. In his arms he held what looked to be all the supplies that Spencer was going to need. Smirking just a little when he saw how Sam startled at his arrival, he said, “You know, most kids ask their parents for a bike, or a car, or a pony. Not blood from a dead guy.”

Snorting, Spencer sat up, closing the book and setting it aside before laying out the notebook with the translation down on the table. “I have a bike, and a car, and I don’t want a pony.” He scooted forward and made sure that there was space on this end of the table for things to be set down without getting in the way of the last of Sam’s supplies. “However, I _do_ need _that_. Thank you for getting it for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“You got the spell translated?” Sam asked, watching as Gabriel set the items down on the table.

“The tracking spell’s ready?” Another voice asked.

Spencer looked up to see Dean and Castiel walking in from the direction of the front door. He’d sensed as the other angel had arrived, his grace touching against the wards that were set to allow only specific angels inside—namely, Gabriel and Castiel.

The two came in and stopped close by, standing shoulder to shoulder in a way that made Spencer smile. Even since Famine, when everyone had been knocked down low, Dean and Castiel seemed to be growing closer and closer. Spencer didn’t think that they’d officially gotten together yet; however, he didn’t think it’d be much longer, either.

“We’re just getting started.” Gabriel told them as he began to lay out the map. Spencer took the ceremonial bowl that his father had brought and set it in his lap, preparing to start adding the first ingredients.

While they worked, Sam was cleaning up the leftovers from his work. He had five hex bags, one for each of them, and he handed over one to Dean and one to Castiel. “Here. These should help at least lessen the strength of any blood magic done close to or against you. It won’t stop it completely, but whatever the witch does won’t be as strong.”

“Real reassuring.” Dean grumbled. Still, he slipped the bag into his pocket.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.” He looked back towards the door and then back at his brother, and when Spencer looked up he could see the silent question on Sam’s face. This time, even Spencer knew what he was asking, and he watched Dean carefully for a reply. The older Winchester noticed Spencer's attention and made a point to answer to him instead of Sam. “Your friends got called out. Apparently their boss wanted them to go interview someone, so they had to head out. But that Emily girl, she promised to try and help get attention away from us and to try and steer them all away from trouble. She’s a pretty bad ass chick.”

A soft smile touched Spencer's lips. “She is. She’s one of the best people I know.” Time and time again she amazed him. Her ability to take things in stride and not have the giant ‘freak out’ over them was something that he envied. People called him practical and logical, but Emily had those skills in abundance as well. It was what made her extremely good at her job.

The young profiler turned his attention back to the spell they were casting. A few minutes and a burst of flame later, nothing was left of the map except for the location they needed to go. “Got it.” Spencer said, pushing up to his feet.

Dean leaned forward to look at the bit of map that Spencer held. “This is where our witch is?”

“Yep.”

“Keep in mind, it’s not necessarily where the witch lives.” Gabriel pointed out to them. “The spell traced back their magic. So, that’s just their current location. Doesn’t mean they live there.”

“Well we better get over there and take a look then, huh?” Dean said.

Armed with their hex bags and their usual array of weapons, the Winchesters, angels in tow, headed out to the location on the map.

CXCX

They flew there, not wanting to risk not only the local officers or any of the other BAU members seeing the car, but not wanting to take too long and end up missing their witch. Both worries proved fruitless almost the instant they landed. The minute they touched ground, Spencer looked over towards the house they were headed to, and what he saw there momentarily froze him in place. There, parked right at the curb, was a big black SUV. A _familiar_ big black SUV. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, stepping right up to Spencer's side with his eyes already scanning in search of any threat. Castiel moved with him, like he was glued to his side, which would’ve made Spencer chuckle at any other time.

Gabriel had seen the same thing he had. He let out a low curse of his own. “I think I know who your friends went to go interview.”

The smart thing to do here was wait, watch, and hope that the BAU members came out of the house sometime soon. That’s what they would’ve done, if they hadn’t suddenly heard a loud crash and what sounded like a gunshot.

Spencer immediately took flight instead of wasting time moving on foot. He felt his father and uncle flying with him, carrying the Winchesters, and the group of them landed in the living room of the house they’d been watching. What they found was chaos. The room looked like it’d been a part of a warzone. Furniture was tipped over, a curio cabinet was lying on the ground, broken. A woman stood at the far side of the room with a nasty looking knife in hand, almost radiating with a dark power that swirled around a soul that was twisted and marred by the blood magic she’d done. On the other side of the room were Derek and Emily. They were in the hallway connected to the living room, backs against the wall and guns in hand, trying to talk to her. Treating her like she was just any other Unsub. “Gail, it doesn’t have to be like this.” Emily was calling out right as they landed. “Just put the weapon down.”

There was no time for any of them to react beyond initially taking in the scene. They’d rushed right in without looking first and they paid for it. Gabriel tried to call out a warning, grabbing Castiel’s arm and Spencer's like he was about to fly away, before absolute agony ripped through every inch of Spencer's body. His grace screamed in him, burning as it felt like something tried to rip it out of his body. The only thing that kept it there, that kept it anchored, was how closely it was tied to his soul. The spell that ripped over and through him didn’t have the strength to remove his soul from his body.

He didn’t even realize that he’d dropped to the ground, or that the sound he’d heard was the sound of his own scream.

Gunshots echoed up above him and then a firm arm slid underneath his arms, wrapping around his chest and yanking him backwards. His back pressed against something solid and he cried out again. While his wings were still technically ‘tucked away’, they were connected to his back and the sigil had done what he was afraid was some serious damage.

He felt his body be yanked across the floor and then he was being set down again, propped up against something. The pain started to fade a little then, just enough for him to realize that it was the back of a couch he was resting against. Well, partially resting against. Most of his weight was being cradled against a rather large, really warm body, held up by the solid arm that was still across his chest holding him close. _Sam_.He was being held against Sam. And right in front of him was Dean, who was just dropping down behind the couch to avoid whatever return fire the witch was sending. In his hands he held his gun and his expression had hardened into that look that Spencer had seen on plenty of law enforcement officials in the heat of a fight.

No matter how much it hurt, Spencer knew he had to move. He couldn’t afford to lay there and whimper. Gathering strength, he patted Sam’s arm, trying to let him know that he was okay to move. Sam wasn’t letting go, though. Even Dean was shooting him a quick, worried look. “You all right, man?”

Spencer licked his lips and nodded. “I will be.” His grace was still churning in him, leaving him feeling like someone had run him through the grinder and spat him back out the other side.

“What the hell happened?”

“Banishing sigil.” Spencer rasped. He pressed a hand on the ground, exerting a little of his strength to tug free from Sam’s arm no matter how much he wanted desperately to stay there. There wasn’t time.

Dean rose up to try and take another shot and Spencer watched as the man went flying back to crash into the wall right against the door. Dammit! Even with their hex bags, her magic was still strong. Strong enough to throw a grown man and create chaos here. He heard more gunshots, coming from the direction of Derek and Emily, and a few more crashes that he prayed wasn’t his friends being thrown.

Grabbing the couch, Spencer pushed himself up, ignoring the way his legs trembled. He remembered what Emily had been saying when they’d landed and he held his hands out to her now, calling out the name Emily had used “Gail, stop. Stop.” Hands held out in peace, Spencer locked his knees, trying desperately to keep his feet. This wasn’t going to work if he couldn’t stay upright. He locked eyes with the woman across the room and the sight of her soul had him shuddering. With that one look, he knew—there was no way they were going to be able to talk her down from this. She wasn’t going to listen. She wasn’t going to stop. She liked what she was doing too much. All the blood magic she’d done, all the murder, had twisted and scarred and damaged her soul. There was barely anything human left in her. She might’ve been pretty once, before all this. Tall, slender, with big blue eyes and that pretty blond hair, but all Spencer could see was the ravages of her soul and it made him shudder.

He wouldn’t be able to talk her down, but maybe he could distract her long enough to get close. She’d be able to deflect any of the bullets the others fired at her but she wouldn’t be able to stop a knife if he were right there. And she wouldn’t have a chance against the power in him if he could touch his hand to her. That wasn’t something he generally used, but he would make an exception for this. His best bet would usually be to fly over there. That sure wasn’t happening right now, though.

“Back off, angel boy.” Gail snarled at him. She held a hand up towards him and he felt the call of her magic. She wasn’t going to try talking, either. She was going to kill them all if she could. That wasn’t something he could let happen.

Four massive wings erupted from Spencer as he took a shaky step forward and to the right, placing himself protectively between her and the doorway where two of his friends were still hiding. His wings were damaged, showing the attack against his grace, but he held them high and proud in protection of those behind him, the span of them covering enough of the room that he knew he had them all sheltered. “I won’t let you touch them.”

The smile Gail wore was tinged with insanity. “I’m going to have fun draining the lot of you.”

Chanting loudly, she flung her magic against him and Spencer reacted with the only thing he had that she wasn’t suspecting. He called on magic of his own, pagan magic, and pushed it back at her, holding hers back. “No” he snarled at her. The brown and gold in his eyes swirled and glowed together and lit them up with an inhuman light.

Spencer had forgotten in his urge to protect his friends that he wasn’t entirely alone here. While he may have been protecting Emily and Derek, there were two here who didn’t exactly need his protection. Two who had been doing this for a long, long time and who knew how to take advantage of opportunities presented to them. Dean had recovered from his fall by then and he used the cover of Spencer's wings to sneak to one side while Sam had done the same to sneak to the other. As Spencer and Gail fought magic against magic, the two hunters took advantage of the distraction.

A gunshot rent the air, just barely stopped by a quick chant from Gail. It was all Dean needed, though. The minute his brother fired the shot, he was moving, darting right up to Gail’s exposed backside, Ruby’s knife in hand, and thrust it right into her back.

The push of magic in the room stopped. Spencer held his own at the ready, just in case of any backlash, but he could see as the light in her eyes flashed and then faded, and the light of her soul extinguished as the darkness around it rose up and swallowed it whole. It was gone before Dean finished withdrawing the knife. When Gail’s body dropped to the ground, that was all it was, a body. Nothing more. It was done.

Spencer looked up at the older Winchester and offered him a weak smile. “Nice shot.” He complimented. Then he crumpled.

“Spencer!” Sam moved quickly, but not quick enough to catch him before he hit. It took a bit of careful maneuvering to get around the wings and down to Spencer's body. What he saw of all of it had him worrying. It’d been bad enough when Spencer had dropped before and let out those horrendous screams. This…this was a mess. Spencer's body looked pale and his wings—his wings looked like they’d been ravaged. Feathers were twisted this way and that, out of place all over, and some had even fallen out. They looked like they might be bleeding in a spot or two as well. Sam was almost hesitant to reach out and touch the fallen nephilim’s face. “Jesus, Spencer…”

“Stay back!” He heard Dean bark out in that tone of voice that never failed to get results. A second later, his familiar presence moved up close to Sam and then Dean was dropping down into a squat beside him. “What the hell happened?”

“Banishing sigil.” Spencer murmured thickly. “Don’ work on me. Hurts like hell, though.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dean said. He looked Spencer over and then looked up at Sam. “We gotta get him outta here.”

“What’s going on over there?” Emily’s slightly panicked voice called out from the doorway at the same time that Derek called “Reid? Is he okay? Is Reid okay?”

The brothers looked up and realized that Spencer's wings were angled just right that they were blocking the two agents from rushing forward. A blessing in disguise, really. The last thing Spencer needed was to be crowded. Dean was right; they had to get him out of here. That meant they were going to have to move him. “We’ll have to pick him up.” Sam said lowly. “Use the key, get him to the house. I don’t know how long it takes angels to—reassemble—after something like that. We can’t wait around for Gabe and Cas.”

“I know, I know. Hey, magic boy.” Reaching out, Dean patted lightly at Spencer's cheek. His tone was slightly mocking, meant to irritate enough to encourage Spencer to respond, but Sam could see the worry on his face. When Spencer's eyes blinked open just a fraction, Dean bent down low, trying to catch his gaze. “We gotta move you outta here, man. You’re sort of shedding and bleeding all over the place and I don’t think we need a winged guy hanging out here when the other cops finally show up. Think you can tuck these bad boys in so we can get you to the safe house?”

Spencer gave a miniscule shake of his head. “C-Can’t.” As if to prove his point, his wings twitched and he made another of those low, pained sounds.

“It’s all right.” Sam reassured him, laying a careful hand on Spencer's cheek, unable to hold back any longer. “We’ll get you outta here.”

Dean planted his hands on his knees, pushing up to look around. “Hey, that key he gave you, it works on any door, right?”

“That’s what he said.” Sam answered.

“There’s some sliding doors here, kind of hidden. We use it on those, we should be able to get him through, wings and all.”

It was their best plan. Sam tossed over the key to Dean, who immediately set to pulling the two sliding doors out of their hiding spot. While he did that, Sam carefully started to gather him up, trying to touch his wings as little as possible. “All right, Spencer, I got you. That’s it, I got you.” Sam murmured as soothingly as he could. He flinched with each pained sound that Spencer made, but he didn’t let it stop him, moving them both until he had his shoulder under Spencer's arm and an arm around his back to hold him up. Spencer tried to help, weakly setting his feet down, drawing his wings in as close as he could manage. Hazy eyes drifted over his shoulder to where one wing trailed and he watched as one of the feathers fell to the ground. A pained sort of sound slipped from him and he made to reach for it. Only Sam’s arm around him kept him from toppling down after it. “Woah, woah there, Spencer. Be careful. You’re not all that steady yet.”

“M’ feathers.” Spencer slurred. He blew out a breath and tried to reach out again, despite Sam’s grip. “I can’t leave m’ feathers. Can’t…can’t…”

Dean darted forward before Sam was forced to yank Spencer back once more. “Hey.” He put a hand on Spencer's arm, stopping him from reaching out again. “Don’t worry about it, dude. I’ll gather em all up. Every last one.”

“All of ‘em?” Spencer asked.

“All of ‘em. Promise.” Dean swore. “I can’t imagine we want anyone getting their hands on them, anyways. You just let Sammy get you over to the safe house and I’ll clean up after you here.”

Spencer seemed to contemplate that for a moment before nodding weakly. He leaned back into Sam, wings fluttering just a hit. “Don’t…” Pausing, he drew in a shaky breath, forcing a bit of clarity into his voice. “Don’t let anyone else touch them.”

“I won’t.”

With that promise, Spencer finally leaned his weight into Sam and let the younger Winchester carry him forward through the door that Dean had opened for them.

CXCX

It took a lot of work and a lot of careful coaxing for Sam to get Spencer through the house and down the hall to his bedroom. Thankfully, the hall to the bedrooms was wide enough and there was nothing hanging on the walls, so it didn’t really do any damage for his wings to drag a little against them. Spencer had stopped his whimpering, too, thank God. The sound had been ripping at Sam’s heart. When he looked down at the nephilim’s face, though, he realized it wasn’t that the pain had stopped, it was more that Spencer was keeping it all locked down inside.

Finally they reached Spencer's bedroom. Spencer collapsed almost gratefully down onto the large bed, leaving Sam kneeling on the bed beside him with his hands free and completely unsure of what to do. He knew how to treat wounds; he had no idea how to treat wounds on wings that, as far as he’d always understood, were essentially made up of grace. Castiel had once told them that wings weren’t physical in the sense that they understood, though they could be physical enough to actually be touched. What did that mean for injuries done to them? Was it different for Spencer, maybe, being part human? He didn’t know and he didn’t want to cause any further damage with his ignorance. _Gabriel, if you’re put back together yet, you need to get your ass to the house. That banishing thing did a number to Spencer and I don’t have any idea how to treat wing injuries._ Sam prayed.

“For him, we treat them like any other injuries.” Gabriel’s voice came from right behind him.

Sam looked up to see Gabriel striding around the foot of the bed and over to the side opposite Sam. Damn, that was fast. He hadn’t expected his prayer to be heard and answered that quickly.

Ducking under one wing and kneeling carefully beside the bed, Gabriel answered his thoughts absently “I was already on my way back to the house when your prayer came in. Cassie should be with your brother now.” His expression softened a little and he reached out to cup Spencer's cheek. “Hey there, little fox. Sammo here tells me you tried to fight off that sigil instead of flying away like I taught you.”

“Tried?” Spencer repeated, his voice just a bit raspy. “I totally won.”

Chuckling, Gabriel slid his hand to the back of Spencer's neck, then down to his back, shifting himself until he could reach around the top wing enough to lay his hand flat between the base of each wing. He looked over Spencer's back to where Sam was still kneeling and warned him “Close your eyes for a minute there, kiddo. This might get bright.”

Sam immediately shut his eyes. Still, he saw a glow through his eyelids, warm but not too bright. It lasted only a moment before fading away. “There.” Gabriel said. “That’s the best healing I can do.”

When Sam opened his eyes, he tell right away that Spencer looked better, though he didn’t look perfect yet. His color was better and he wasn’t bleeding anymore. But his feathers still looked all out of place and the two smaller, bottom wings were curled in sort of protectively. Gabriel noticed Sam’s gaze and smiled reassuringly. “It’s all right. He just needs a bit of grooming and some rest. Some of it has to heal on its own. I gave him a boost, though, and knocked him out. He’s sleeping right now.”

“I thought these were a part of your grace. I didn’t think they could get hurt.” Sam said, looking down again at the mess of feathers.

“Oh, our grace can get hurt. Especially after a banishing sigil tries to banish a grace that’s firmly attached to a soul and a physical body that refuse to move.” When Sam looked up at him, Gabriel gave him a smile that was gentler and more reassuring than he was used to seeing on the archangel’s face when directed towards him. “He’ll be fine, Sam. By tomorrow night, he should be able to tuck them away again.  He just needs some rest and a day of keeping them out and open. Nephilim are more physical than angels, they need to have their wings be physically here more often than we do. It’ll be good for him to keep them stretched out. Now, you gonna help me get him groomed right, or you wanna keep sitting here petting at him?”

It wasn’t until Gabriel said something that Sam realized he’d been petting slightly at the wing closest to him. Embarrassed, he drew his hand back. “I don’t know. He seemed kind of picky about who got to touch his feathers. He didn’t want anyone but Dean picking up the feathers that fell out back at the house. Made him promise, too, before he would leave.”

That had Gabriel’s eyebrows shooting up. “He let Dean-o pick them up?” Tipping his head, he let out a low whistle. “Boy, he really does trust you two. Well, believe me, kiddo, if he’s fine with Grumpy picking up loose feathers, he’s gonna be more than fine with you helping get him settled. An don’t worry about waking him up, either. I made sure he’s out. Plus, there’s nothing to knock him out faster than grooming him, anyways. Now just watch what I do and try to keep your touch gentle so you don’t break anything off.”

Under Gabriel’s direction, Sam moved to sit with his back to the headboard, Spencer's head resting on a pillow near his hip, and he lifted the top wing, spreading it carefully over his lap. Then, with careful, gentle fingers, he started to slide them through the soft feathers there, straightening out the ones that he could and gently removing the ones that were too damaged. He couldn’t help but admire them as he worked. There were so many shades of brown in them with that fine dusting of gold. They were absolutely beautiful. His thoughts showed in how gentle and reverent his touch was.

Seeing it, Gabriel ducked his head to hide his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter did okay for y'all. Merci beaucoup for all your reviews and for sticking through this with me even though I know I've been so slow on updates. Y'all are great and you're helping keep me motivated :) I've got most of what I want pretty well plotted out and even started on some chapters, so I'll try to not take so long getting them up to you. I'm putting my focus on this before I finish any other stories. Stick with me, mes amies, we're almost to the end! :D


	12. Chapter 12

When Sam first woke come morning time, he wasn’t quite sure if he actually was awake or if he was still inside of some dream world. His dreams through the night had been full of forests and sunlight, warmth and safety, and the soft sound of feathers. They were the most pleasant dreams he’d had since, well, since before Stanford. A part of him didn’t want to leave the safe and peaceful feelings that he’d found there. So when he woke to a feeling of warmth sprawled over him and the soft sound of feathers rustling, he was sure for a bit that he was still asleep. For a few minutes he just lay there and let himself drift on that peaceful feeling.

Finally, he opened his eyes, and reality came back in like a tidal wave when he caught sight of the tousled brown hair on a very familiar head that was using his chest as a pillow.

How had he ended up like this? The last he remembered, he’d still been sitting against the headboard with one of Spencer's wings in his lap, pinned in place and reluctant to move and risk waking the sleeping man that had snuggled up against his hip. He’d been alone, with no one to help him detach. Gabriel had finished grooming the two wings on his side first, naturally, experience winning out there, and he’d promptly vanished afterwards under the guise of needing to check on their respective brothers. Only, he hadn’t come back, and eventually Sam must’ve fallen asleep while waiting. But how he’d gotten from _there_ to _here_ , he had no idea. He was no longer up against the headboard. Instead, he was stretched out on the bed, with Spencer lying mostly on top of him like he was some kind of heated blanket, his wings still loosely spread out on either side of them. His head was on Sam’s chest, one arm tucked down alongside him while the other was curled up between them, the flat of his palm pressed over Sam’s heart, like he was trying to feel the beat of it there in his sleep. His wings fluttered a little now and again, unconscious little twitches, and that would explain the rustling sound of feathers that he’d woken to.

Sam didn’t move for a few moments. He didn’t really want to. All the things that he’d been secretly wanting lately, the things that he’d thought of but hadn’t dared voice, were right here. The young hunter knew himself well enough that he could admit when he was attracted to someone. Spencer wasn’t the first male to ever draw his eye. College had been an eye-opening experience and had taught Sam about himself in a lot of ways.

Still, he doubted anything could’ve quite prepared him for this, even with the unique upbringing that he’d had. Was there anything that could prepare you to start falling for a half angel, half human, one who occasionally pretended to be a pagan, who was your self-appointed guardian angel, and whose father had taken extreme pleasure in torturing you and your brother?

There’s a peace here that he hasn’t known in such a long time. Not since Stanford. Not since long, lazy summer mornings with the apartment already warming up and Jess’s warmth a solid weight against his side, or cold winter mornings where the light was barely filtering in and she was draped over him like a warm, silky blanket. She’d slept like this, too, lying over and on him. Wrapped up _in_ him, she would joke. Those mornings were some of Sam’s favorite memories and they were something he hadn’t thought he’d ever get again with anyone. Hadn’t thought that he’d ever feel for anyone anything close to what he’d felt back then.

This…this had built in him, creeping over him despite his best intentions. He hadn’t planned for this at all.

Part of Sam knew he shouldn’t get this. Not again. Not after everything that he’s done. He doesn’t deserve what he sees in Spencer's eyes each time the nephilim looks at him. The faith and trust that’s there. The loyalty. The affection. No, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s the boy with the demon blood. The one who set Lucifer free, who is destined to be his vessel if they don’t succeed at derailing the apocalypse.

But…Spencer knew all that about him. Hell, he’d touched Sam’s _soul_. He’d seen inside of him in ways no one else ever had. Not even Dean, who knew Sam better than anyone. Spencer had seen all of that and he was still here. It wasn’t just because they’re fighting the apocalypse, either, or that he was trying to back the winning horse, so to speak. Sam might’ve thought that sometimes but he knew it wasn’t true. He knows exactly why Spencer's here. He’s known it from the minute that Spencer had first, reluctantly, agreed to help them.

A soft, happy sound from Spencer drew Sam out of his thoughts. He looked down and watched as the young nephilim shuffled around a little, one wing fluttering just a bit. It drew attention to the fact that Sam had apparently been sitting there carding his fingers through the feathers of one without even noticing what he was doing.

He could’ve been perfectly content to lay here for quite a while, just watching Spencer sleep, listening to the soft sounds he made that were slightly adorable—though he’d never tell Spencer that. While Spencer might not get offended by it, it’d probably fluster the hell out of him. But, there was a certain need making itself known, and Sam couldn’t indulge the way that he wanted. He slowly and carefully started the process of somehow extracting himself from Spencer's embrace.

He’d barely managed to move when Spencer's arm tightened against him. A sleep-heavy voice suddenly came from the direction of his chest. “’ere y’ goin’?”

Sam froze, unsure and nervous now that Spencer was actually awake. It only took a second to translate those sleepy words. When he did, he relaxed just the slightest bit. Apparently Spencer wasn’t all that bothered waking up the way that they had. Hesitantly, he smoothed a hand over the nephilim’s wing in a comforting gesture, smiling as he watched Spencer sigh under the touch. “I was just getting up. I’ve got to use the bathroom.”

“Mmm.” Spencer mumbled. He rubbed his cheek against Sam, nuzzling in, and warmth spread through Sam’s chest. Then there was a low, sighed out “ _Fine_ ” before Spencer shifted, moving off of Sam’s chest to drop down on the bed beside him. It gave Sam enough room to move and push up to his feet, though he still had to dodge wings to do it. It amused him to see Spencer immediately move into the warm spot he’d left behind and snag the pillow, cuddling it to his chest like he’d been cuddled up against Sam. This whole time, he never once opened his eyes. It looked like he was the cuddly type in his sleep. As Sam made his way to the bathroom, he wondered just how much of this Spencer would remember lately.

A few minutes later he was making his way out to the kitchen. Once he got into the hall, he heard the low hum of voices and he followed them, only to find Dean, Castiel and Gabriel gathered together in the kitchen. Dean and Castiel were standing side by side, leaning back against one counter, and Dean had a mug of coffee in his hand and looked like he’d been up for a little while already. Gabriel sat on the counter right by the coffeepot and he was holding a large mug of something that Sam swore was going to give him cavities just by _looking_ at it. The amused snort from Gabriel and the way those golden eyes flashed up towards his, sparkling with laughter, told him that his wayward thought had been heard. Damn archangels and their lack of mind-reading respect.

Gabriel let out another amused sound and shook his head. “It’s not as easy as you think, Sambo.” He said, making Dean’s head snap up and shoot over towards Sam, not having realized his brother was in the room yet.

“Sure it is.” Sam said, making his way to the coffee pot. “Have you tried just, not listening? Cas here doesn’t seem to have a problem with it?”

“Problem with what?” Dean asked. He looked back and forth between the two, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s going on?”

Ignoring Dean completely, Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Of course Cas doesn’t.” Lifting a finger, he swirled it around his face. “Hello? _Archangel._ I kinda run on a higher power scale than the rest of the crowd. Besides, you think _loud_ , kiddo. Not even those tricks Spencer taught you make you completely silent for me.”

“Isn’t that just great.” Sam sighed. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, he drew it down and started to prepare himself a mug. It felt sort of surreal to be debating reading people’s minds and shielding his own mind. This was definitely a coffee sort of conversation.

Realization had finally hit for Dean and his eyes went wide before narrowing on Gabriel. “Wait a second…are you picking at his brain?”

“He is not ‘picking’.” Castiel said slowly, obviously not quite sure about Dean’s word choice. “He is simply listening. Archangels hear much clearer than the rest of us, and even before he left, Gabriel was always much more in tune with humanity.”

“Well why can’t he just stop listening?” Dean demanded.

The archangel rolled his eyes once more and let out a gusty sigh. “How on earth does he deal with this?” He murmured to himself, just loud enough for them to hear. Probably on purpose. Raising his voice back to normal, he gave Dean a flat look. “As I just explained to Moosey over here, it’s not as easy as you think to just shut you guys out. Those tricks Spencer taught you keep out most, but, they don’t have my power. I can tune you out easier. You’re connected with Cassie there, so it makes you a bit fuzzier. But _you_ ,” He turned is gaze to Sam now, and there was a definite hint of a smirk at his lips. “You’re connected to my boy, which pretty much tunes you in a little more clearly.”

Just the thought of what Gabriel might’ve heard inside of Sam’s head is enough to have the young hunter paling. “Oh, God.” How many inappropriate things had Gabriel managed to overhear? How many of them had been about _his son_?

Gabriel grinned broadly and then reached out to pat Sam’s arm. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ve been with the pagans, remember? I’m not as uptight as my brothers and sisters. Sex is a fun and natural thing.”

This time it was Dean who said a low “Oh, God.” Followed quickly by a “Dammit, no, nuh-uh. We are _not_ having this conversation. Hell no. I really don’t need to think about my brother and his angel getting freaky.”

“Jealous?” Gabriel shot back.

Sam smirked a little while his back was still to his brother. Cradling his mug between his hands, he turned around and leaned back against the counter as he took his first sip. It put him right beside Gabriel, his arm brushing the archangel’s knee, and he felt a moment of surprise that he could be standing here so close and so relaxed with a person that, until recently, he would’ve happily staked. It was odd how things like that could change. Granted, what he’d done still rankled in Sam, still pissed him off and hurt like hell, but he was adult enough to set aside grudges when it was important, and there was a small part of him that had taken the time to look at things and think, maybe, that Gabriel might’ve been trying to somehow help in his own twisted, messed up sort of way.

A soft sigh sounded by his ear. Then, to his complete surprise, Gabriel murmured softly, so soft it almost couldn’t be heard over Dean’s continued sputtered protests over how he definitely wasn’t jealous, “I was, you know.” There was a bit of a pause in which Sam didn’t dare turn, kind of afraid that he might stop whatever this was here, and then Gabriel added “I just wanted to stop—this.”

That was as close to an admission of guilt and an apology as Sam had a feeling he was going to get. And, he realized, it was all he really needed. This just wasn’t as important as everything else that was in their lives right now. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t important all, or that it was all just forgotten, but it could be forgiven. Holding a grudge would get him nowhere.

One of Gabriel’s hands settled on the back of his head and gave his hair a fond sort of ruffle, like he’d seen the archangel do to Spencer a time or two. Sam scowled to hide the hint of a smile and quickly ducked his head away from the touch, looking back over his shoulder as he did. His eyes met Gabriel’s and a silent understanding passed between the two. An agreement, sort of, to try and let things go, to put aside whatever differences remained between them. They had one major bit of common ground between them and for that, for him, it was definitely worth putting aside the rest.

“Can we get back on topic here?” Dean asked suddenly, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “we were discussing some important things and there’s no telling how long we have before you-know-who wakes up.” His eyes moved over to Sam. “He was still asleep when you came out, right?”

Well this didn’t sound good. Worried now, Sam watched his brother cautiously and then ran his suspicious gaze over the two angels as well. “Yes.” So, he’d been right when he came out. They _had_ been discussing something out here. What, he wasn’t sure. But something to do with Spencer, obviously, if they didn’t want him out here, and Sam had a feeling it wasn’t just a talk about his health.

His confusion must’ve been showing on his face because Gabriel chuckled and ruffled at his hair again. “Relax, Sammy boy. There’s just something we want to take care of.”

“We’re gonna go have a little chat with Spencer's team before the squirt wakes up.” Dean supplied helpfully, to the point as he always was.

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Gabriel added in. “I already went and had a talk with Emily. Her and Agent Dick are prepping the way by telling them about the supernatural. All we have to do is tell them about Spencer.”

Wow. That hadn’t been what he’d expected. Sam raised his eyebrows at them. “He’s not gonna like that.”

“Nope.” Gabriel agreed cheerfully, lifting his mug to take a drink of whatever nauseating concoction was in his mug. “He’s gonna be _pissed_. And trust me, you think you’ve seen his temper so far? You’ve got no idea. That kid has a mouth on him! But I’d rather have him yell at me than have to hold him together because some asshole made him cry. And now that you’re up, we’re just about ready to go. I just need to do one more thing.” With no more warning than that, and a quick finger-snap, Gabriel was gone. Sam stared at the counter where he’d been for a moment, blinking his eyes a little as he tried to understand the randomness of his disappearance. Then, with a philosophical shrug of his shoulder, he went back to his coffee. Gabriel would be back soon enough, he imagined. Until then, Sam would drink his coffee. He wasn’t awake enough yet to try and understand the mind of their resident trickster/archangel.

It only took about thirty seconds before the nearby back door opened and Gabriel came strolling in from the backyard. He wasn’t alone, though. One of the most massive wolves that Sam had ever seen came following in behind him. “Just keep an eye on him for me till we get back.” Gabriel was saying as he came in.

The shock went up a little more when the wolf let out a low, barking laugh, and then said “He’s not gonna like having a babysitter.”

“Duh.” Gabriel said with a roll of his eyes. “Just keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t try to tuck his wings away. They need to heal.” He gestured off down the hallway, telling the wolf—Fenrir, this was Fenrir in his wolf form, holy shit!—“He’s in his room. You know the way.”

Fenrir took off down the hall with only a quick nod of his head their direction. Once he was gone, Gabriel turned to the group, hands on his hips. “All right. We ready for this?”

“I’m assuming you guys came up with some sort of plan for this?” Sam asked.

Grinning broadly, Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. Try not to get shot by the humans.” Lifting his hand, he snapped his fingers.

This must’ve all been a little more planned than Gabriel had let on. Sam doubted it was coincidence that the entire BAU team that they were going to see were gathered in one room when they came to see them. Whether Gabriel had simply timed it right, or he’d done something to get them there, Sam had no idea. But when they landed in what looked to be a hotel room—a nicer one than the kind they usually stayed in—there was a crowd of people already there. Their arrival caused an instant chaos and as Sam found himself suddenly staring down the barrel of multiple guns, Gabriel’s plans of not getting shot suddenly seemed a bit more important. Sam reached a hand out quickly, his coffee cup mysteriously gone, and put a hand on Dean’s arm to stop his brother from reaching for his own weapon.

“Wait, wait, stop!” A woman’s voice called out. Sam watched as Emily raced forward, arms out, and placed herself right between the two groups. “Everyone stop!”

On the other side of the room sat the people that must be Spencer's team. Derek, he knew, and he could see the man was already holstering his weapon. Good. Beside him was a slightly older man with black hair and a goatee. At his side was a tall, serious looking man, also with dark black hair. Both of them were still holding their weapons steady. Beside the serious man was another woman, a slender blond, and she was still holding her gun but was carefully lowering it, watching between them and Emily.

When she was sure no one was going to be shooting, Emily carefully lowered her own hands. “I told you guys we had people coming by to prove what we were saying. These are the people.” She told her friends. Then she shot a reprimanding look their direction. “I’d expected a little more warning, though. Or a knock at the door.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Gabriel asked. He was grinning gleefully and was rocking a little on the balls of his feet. The ass looked perfectly happy here in the middle of the chaos.

The blond woman was staring at them all with wide, stunned eyes. “They…they just appeared. How the hell did they just appear?”

“We are not from hell.” Castiel said in that low, deep voice of his, right at the same time that the older guy said “Wait a second, we know you two! We met you at the funeral!”

“Very good.” Gabriel said mockingly. He snapped his fingers and suddenly the guns in the room all turned into brightly colored dildos. “There. That’s better.”

Sam didn’t know which was funnier—what Gabriel had done, or the agents’ reactions to it. It took a herculean effort not to bust out in loud laughter as he watched them all actually drop the dildos in shock. Derek actually _threw_ his a little when he saw the pink monstrosity that he was holding. That was too much and both Sam and Dean had to laugh a little there. Sam, at least, tried to smother his, while Dean laughed unrepentantly, humor bright on his face. It only got worse when Emily stepped between the group again, obviously trying to keep back her suddenly very unhappy teammates, and they saw that there was a rainbow striped dildo in her holster instead of her gun.

She realized it at the same time that they did. Hearing Dean’s laughter grow, and following his gaze, the raven haired woman looked down at her hip. When she saw it there, she didn’t bother removing it, just lifted her head and shot a glare Gabriel’s direction, apparently not the least bit afraid of him, much to Gabriel’s open amusement. Then she looked back at her friends. “Everyone just take a breath for a minute. No one try to kill each other, okay? While we didn’t exactly expect them to just up and appear in the room, these are the people Morgan and I told you about. Everyone, these are Gabriel, Castiel, Sam and Dean.” Emily introduced them, gesturing to each one with a hand as she did. Then she looked at them and gestured to the other side of the room. “Guys, this is our team. You met Morgan—this is Dave, Aaron, and JJ.”

The one she’d called Aaron fixed them with a glare that didn’t even come close to John Winchester’s glare when he was pissed. “Where’s Reid?”

“Safe.” Dean answered.

“He’s resting.” Sam added on, looking at Derek and Emily specifically. He could see the worry on their faces, and the relief as he told them “He’s okay. Tired still, but okay.”

“Who exactly are you?” JJ asked, still looking stunned. “Or…God, I never thought I’d have to ask this. _What_ are you?”

“We’re people who care.” Dean answered her.

Castiel, however, gave a much simpler and yet more complex answer. “We are his family.”

Smirking, Gabriel leaned against the wall by Castiel, twirling a sucker between his fingers. “We’re the people who’ll kick your ass if you hurt him.” Using his sucker, he pointed at each of them in turn. “You got one rebel angel, one runaway archangel turned Trickster, and two hunters who’ve been fighting the supernatural since they were kids and who can get a little stab happy with the bad guys. Trust me, I know. They’ve stabbed me more than once.”

“Dude, that doesn’t count.” Dean argued immediately. “It doesn’t kill you.”

“It still hurts!” Gabriel insisted.

Snorting, Sam turned enough to arch an eyebrow at the trickster. “You deserved it each time.”

The offended look immediately melted away to one of smug satisfaction. Gabriel popped the sucker in his mouth and grinned around it. “You gotta admit—we had a lot of fun.”

This was all getting to be a little too much for the BAU team. Sam noticed it first and sighed softly. With one hand he gestured to his friends to keep quiet and then he stepped forward, turning his voice gentle like he did with some of their more shell shocked victims. It seemed a bit appropriate with the stunned way that he was being watched at the moment. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, spreading his hands out on either side in a gesture to show he meant peace. “I know this is a lot to take in. I don’t really know how much Emily explained to you about the supernatural, or about us, or how much you believe, but I do know that it’s a lot to take in. You’ve lived your whole lives not knowing about this and now suddenly it’s being shoved in your face. But that’s why we’re here. To answer any questions and to let you guys work it all out. Because despite what you may think of us, or how freaked out you are right now, I promise you that we do care about Spencer. He’s important, to all of us, and the last thing we want is to see him hurt. So why don’t we all sit down and we can talk about this? We’ll answer whatever questions you guys have.”

“Can’t you do what Reid did?” Derek asked them, looking back to the angels. “It might make it a little easier for them to believe. I mean…it’s kind of hard to resist what you’re seeing, you know?”

“You don’t realize what you are asking.” Castiel said sternly. To those that knew him well enough to read beyond his typical flat expression, it was easy to see his surprise in the slight widening of his eyes, the way that he drew himself up and back a little. “That is an extremely private demand.”

“Wanna strip down naked for me, bucko?” Gabriel asked.

Surprise had Derek taking a full step back. “Excuse me?”

Smirking, the archangel lifted an eyebrow, his entire expression radiating smug amusement. “Exactly.”

“Our wings are very special.” Castiel explained. “They are made of our grace, the very essence of who we are. Nephilim’s are even more personal because they are made of a combination of grace and soul. It takes a great deal of trust to allow someone to touch them.”

“Even the feathers we shed are important. Another reason why only family helps with grooming.” Gabriel added in, smirking over at Dean when he saw his surprise. His words weren’t really geared towards the profilers. This part he was saying straight to the brothers and they both knew it. It was his way of letting them know just how big of a deal it was that Spencer had let them help him yesterday, that he’d trusted them to help with his wings and even pick up the loose feathers.

The warm feeling that gave Sam was something he was going to have to look at later. For now, they were here to do something important. “Why don’t we all sit down?” he suggested. “I’m sure you guys have plenty of questions. We’ll answer whatever we can.”

That was how Sam found himself seated at a motel table with his brother, the two angels leaning against the wall right beside them, and the BAU members spread out over the rest of the room. Luckily, it was a pretty decent room, so aside from the table and two chairs there was also a couch. Emily, JJ and Derek sat there while Aaron and Dave stood on either side of it. It very firmly separated the room into _Us_ and _Them_ , but that was fine. They were all calmly facing one another this way and at least there were no more guns involved. That thought almost brought back the earlier laughter. Gabriel’s brand of humor was a lot funnier when it wasn’t directed his way.

He heard Gabriel snicker behind him and he avoided turning to look at him.

To his surprise, he didn’t have to start the conversation. Aaron took care of that for him. The serious looking profiler crossed his arms over his chest and fixed the group with that steady stare of his. “I think it’s time we got some answers here. I have to admit, when Prentiss explained to us about ‘hunting’, and that two men who the FBI has tried to hunt down as serial killers—both of whom should technically be _dead_ —I wasn’t all that inclined to believe her.”

“That’s completely understandable. This is a lot to take in.” Sam said agreeably.

“Most people go their whole lives without knowing about all this.” Dean added. “Sammy and I, we grew up in the life.”

With the angels silent behind them, Sam and Dean spent the next little bit walking through a very abridged version of their lives. They didn’t share everything, not at all, but they laid out the basics, just enough for these people to understand what kind of world it was out there. Demons, vampires, werewolves, they laid it all out there, and Sam was honestly impressed by how the team handled it. Maybe it had something to do with the monsters that they already dealt with. Aaron’s face stayed masked, his expression a controlled calm, and Dave looked still slightly skeptical, but in a way, fascinated. JJ looked to be taking it the hardest. Her eyes were wide and she said not a word, just staring at them in what Sam could see was a bit of shock.

“What about you two?” Dave asked, looking to the two angels. “Who are you two in all this?”

Honest as always, Castiel told him “I am an angel of the Lord and I am assisting the Winchesters in their attempts to stop my brothers from destroying the world.”

JJ spoke then for the first time in a while. “So you’re….you’re really an angel?”

It was Dave who answered that, surprising Sam a little. “Castiel, angel of Thursday.” Then his eyes drifted over to Gabriel and they were a little wider and just a little bit awed. “And you…they called you Gabriel. You’re the _archangel Gabriel_.”

Popping the sucker out of his mouth, Gabriel held it against his lips. “Shhh.” He put it back in his mouth and grinned around the stick. “I’m in hiding. I got tired of the fighting upstairs and skipped out on Heaven to go hang with the pagans. I mostly go by Loki these days.”

“Loki.” Emily repeated slowly. “As in, Norse god, Loki?”

“My own little witness protection.” Gabriel said smugly.

“What does any of this have to do with Reid?” Aaron asked, interrupting them before they go off on that. Judging by the look on Emily’s face, it was a good idea. She had a fascinated expression that promised countless questions. Sam recognized the look; it was one he’d worn plenty of times.

Aaron’s question neatly brought them to the part of the conversation that was most likely going to be the most difficult. From the sounds of things, Gabriel had asked Emily to prepare the BAU team by telling them about the supernatural, and they’d been covering that part of things since they’d showed up here, but they had so far avoided any talk about Spencer's connection to this. Now, with Aaron’s question, there was no more avoiding it. Sam looked over at his brother, not quite sure how to handle this.

They ended up not having to. Gabriel took control of the conversation then and answered Aaron’s question with one simple statement. “Spencer's my son.”

“You’re _son_?” JJ repeated, stunned. Her friends’ expressions echoed her shock.

Gabriel smiled. “Yep.”

“Spencer is the child of a human and an archangel.” Castiel explained to them. “He is a nephilim, forbidden to our kind, and as such, his heritage has been a secret. He kept this secret for his own safety as well as for the safety of his father, whom he loves dearly. If angels knew of his existence, they would view him as a dangerous abomination and would seek to destroy him. The child of a human and an angel is a powerful being with the ability to decimate Heaven’s forces. The child of a human and an archangel is even more powerful and even more dangerous.”

His blunt speech had the effect of taking the wind out of the profilers’ sails. Sam could actually see it as they deflated a little underneath that. If they’d been about to make any protests like Derek had earlier, this silenced it. It laid it out plainly to them just how much of a risk Spencer was in just by existing. The knowledge of it was written on Derek’s face, too, and Sam was pleased to see a little bit of shame there, mixed with guilt. Good. Maybe the bit of time apart had helped him to start to see things in a clearer light. For Spencer's sake, he hoped so.

Dean’s thoughts must’ve been running along the same wavelength as Sam’s. “We’re telling you this, without him here, cause the last thing he needs is another freak out. Any problems you got with the kid, any insults or accusations, you damn well better get em outta your system, cause after your Agent Morgan’s freak out on him, he’s already hurting. We’re not gonna let you hurt him again.” He said. That had a few faces turning towards Derek, who dropped his gaze down and flushed slightly.

“Spencer used his powers to help as often as he could.” Gabriel told them firmly. “Every time he used his powers, he had to be careful to make sure he wasn’t sending up a beacon to Heaven shouting out ‘here I am, come smite me!’. But he’s done more for you than any of you will ever know. He’s taken your nightmares, shielded you, healed you. He’s gone out alone on cases that were supernatural and taken out werewolves and demons and vampires just so none of you would have to. Keep all of that in mind before you even think about judging him. He’s not perfect and he’s not all powerful. Hell, he’s got his grace suppressed so deep to hide, he’s more human than angel.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

At a different time it might’ve been amusing to see the way that everyone, angels included, startled at the sound of that voice. All eyes turned towards the beds where one very pissed off Spencer Reid was standing, His arms were crossed over his chest and he was glaring furiously right at his father.

Gabriel matched him glare for glare, pulling out his sucker and using it to point at his son. “What’re _you_ doing here? You’re supposed to be in bed, resting. _Not_ flying around.”

“I got hungry.” Spencer said, voice sharp. “Imagine my surprise when I got up and found everyone gone and Fen there playing babysitter. It didn’t take me long to find you. It didn’t take me long to get away from him and find you. What do you think you’re doing, Dad?”

“Protecting you.” Gabriel snapped.

Spencer scoffed loudly. “By spilling a secret that wasn’t yours to spill to my friends?”

“If they hadn’t told us, would you have?” Dave asked him, surprising him.

Spencer turned his eyes over to him and the look in them was shuttered, hiding what he really felt. “Honestly? No. I’ve worked extremely hard to keep you guys away from the supernatural.” His eyes shot back over to Gabriel. “And it wasn’t your place to tell them.”

There was a crackle of something in the air that Sam had taken to associating with Gabriel or Spencer when they embraced their power and the golden light in Gabriel’s eyes flashed as his expression hardened. “Watch your tone with me, little fox. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

That sharp reminder was enough to have Spencer losing some of his temper. His shoulders slumped a little and the temper melted off his face, leaving behind a look that Sam could tell was more tired than anything else. Gabriel saw the same thing because the power faded from the room and he pushed away from the wall and made his way over to his son. When he got close, he gathered Spencer up, holding him close, and despite their height difference it didn’t look at all strange. Spencer looked smaller somehow against his father. Whatever the two had to say to one another, Sam was guessing it happened in a telepathic conversation. Neither one said anything out loud but when they pulled apart they both looked more at ease.

Gabriel kept his arm around Spencer's waist as the two turned towards the profilers who were watching everything intently. Nerves were written bright on Spencer if you knew how to look for it. Most of his expression was masked but his body gave him away a little in the way that he leaned in towards Gabriel like he needed the support, or how one of his hands was twisted a little in the hem of Gabriel’s shirt. But he lifted his chin with what pride he could muster. “Hey, guys.”

The room was quiet for one long beat. Sam watched nervously, waiting to see what would happen, how this was going to go down.

When Derek pushed himself up off the couch, Sam braced himself and he could see the others doing the same. No one said anything as the profiler made his way over until he was standing directly in front of his friend. Spencer carefully disengaged himself from his father’s hold and straightened up until he stood tall and proud on his own in front of Derek. For a moment, neither man said anything. Then Derek stunned them all completely. “I’m sorry, Reid.” He said, his words clear and strong. “I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.” Then he leaned in and wrapped Spencer up in a hug.

Sam could see Spencer's face from where he was sitting and he could see the shock that gave way quickly to relief. Long arms came up and hugged Derek back just as tightly as he was being held.

Looking around the room, seeing the smiles on the other profilers, Sam felt himself relax a little. This might’ve been a whole hell of a lot for this group to take in, but their affection for Spencer was obvious, and it was that that would get them through this. This wasn’t going to chase them away. It was written all over their faces. Spencer might be different now in their eyes but he was always going to be their Spencer. Their friend. relaxing, Sam sat back in his seat, smiling to himself. This was a good moment. Lately, those were so few and far between. They’d take this one and enjoy it while they could. Spencer deserved it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, everyone. I haven't forgotten this, I promise! Between another story that caught me up, my back going out for a few days, and a bit of loss of motivation, I let this story fall to the wayside. I'll try not to let it happen again :)
> 
> Some lines in this come directly from the episode. Just to cover myself there :D

 

Maybe it was the fact that they were getting so close to the end, or maybe it was that old Winchester luck, or it could’ve just been the simple fact that it _was_ the apocalypse and bad stuff was kind of supposed to happen. Whatever it was, only three days passed after their big thing with the witch and the BAU team before the next big thing hit them. The next ‘shit storm’, as Dean so eloquently put it.

The day started out innocently enough.

They were at Bobby’s house for breakfast and a quick check in, just letting the man know that they were okay. He was more comfortable staying in his own place, with all his books here and his things, working the phones for Hunters that needed him, than he was coming and spending a bunch of time at their safe house. It was stubborn, yes, but that was Bobby, and all of them were well used to it. Spencer had just smile when his older friend refused to come and stay with them. He knew better than to try pushing it. So every now and again, he and the brothers came here to check in and just make sure that all was still well. It proved to be a rather good thing later on.

Spencer was curled up on the couch in Bobby’s living room, his feet curled up on the seat beside him and just barely brushing against Sam’s hip. Sam sat on the other end, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. Both were cradling coffee mugs in their hands and watching Bobby as the older hunter told them about what kind of apocalyptic activity he’d been finding lately. Gabriel was kicked back in a great big easy chair that he’d snapped into existence, and Castiel was back at the safe house still with Dean—hopefully taking advantage of having an empty house. The sexual tension between the two had been so damn strong lately it was uncomfortable to be in the same room with them. Yet another reason why Sam, Spencer and Gabriel had come to Bobby’s this morning. Anything to get away from that for a bit.

Apparently, their luck wasn’t in. They were debating different bits of information about Pestilence, comparing it to what knowledge Gabriel had, and trying to figure out ways they might be able to take him down somewhat once they found out where he was, when their conversation was broken by the soft sound of wings followed almost instantly by a growl, a thump, and then a loud “Hey!” Spencer watched in with great amusement from his spot on the couch as Castiel and Dean arrived, only for Dean to immediately throw something at Gabriel’s head. Hence the loud ‘ _hey!_ ’ When Spencer saw just what it was that Dean had thrown, he couldn’t help himself. Laughter bubbled out of him and he clutched at his coffee cup to try and keep from spilling it.

“Keep your grimy hands out of my stuff.” Dean growled at the archangel. “And quit filling my bags with that shit!”

Sam made a choked sound that was probably supposed to be some attempt at covering up a laugh; one that he failed horribly at. “Is that…lube?” He tried to smother another of those chuckles, but his eyes were twinkling with mirth when they lifted to Dean. “Did you seriously just throw _lube_?”

“I wouldn’t have to if he didn’t keep sticking tubes of it all through my stuff! It’s freaking everywhere, man.”

The tube came flying up from the chair and hit perfectly on the side of Dean’s head, making the man let out a loud, indignant squawk followed quickly by a curse. Gabriel didn’t flinch, just stayed in his chair and arched an eyebrow up at him. “Trust me, bucko, I’m a little more creative than that.” His face transformed into a smirk and he gave a little eyebrow wiggle. “I’d just zap you and Cassie to your own personal porno.”

As Dean spluttered, face red, and Castiel looked on with confusion, Sam tried to cover up his laughter and Bobby was just shaking his head at the group of them. Spencer, though, was laughing even more. “Oh man.” He gasped out, the look on Dean’s face making it all the better. “They’d be their own Casa Erotica special: The Angel and the Hunter.”

“Dude!” Dean shouted. Spencer had never seen him that particular shade of red before. The hunter couldn’t seem to decide who to glare at more, or what to say, so he finally settled on glaring at Gabriel again and pointing a finger at him. “Just stay out of my stuff!”

“I told you, Dean-o, it wasn’t me!”

“Yeah, right.” Dean scoffed. “Like it wasn’t you that gave me all the princess pink socks, or put the impala’s radio on a loop of Britney Spears, or made me talk in all limericks for a day, or dyed me _fucking blue_.”

By now Spencer wasn’t the only one laughing. Gabriel threw his head back and laughed, open and unrestrained, the sound enough to bring a smile to more than a few faces. Sam finally gave in and quit hiding his laughter, though Bobby just shook his head at them again. “Oh man.” Gabriel said, still chuckling as he pretended to wipe away a tear. “I admit to the car and the limericks, those were good. But I keep telling you, Deanie boy, I didn’t dye you blue, and I didn’t change your socks—though I like that one. Did you wear any of them?” He sat up then, leaning over the edge of the chair like he was going to reach for Dean’s leg. “Are you wearing any now? Let me see!”

“No!” Dean snapped and he did a quick step back, making everyone laugh.

Gabriel chuckled as he started to sit back up. As he did, his eyes drifted over the couch, and they just so happened to pass over Spencer right as the genius was snuggling back down into his seat. They passed over him before suddenly snapping back and locking right on him. Golden eyes narrowed. Arching an eyebrow, Spencer met his gaze calmly, saying not a word. He watched with amusement as realization lit up Gabriel’s face and his eyes flashed with a mixture of amusement and pride. “You devious little shit.”

“What?” Spencer put on his most innocent tone, raising both his eyebrows now and giving his father a wide-eyed look that he knew made him seem younger and more innocent. It was a look he’d perfected a long time ago.

It was also a look that Gabriel knew all too well. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Don’t pull that innocent crap with me, you little brat. I’ve got your number.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t done anything.”

“I don’t know whether to smack you or reward you. It’s been you from the start, hasn’t it? Right from the very first.”

There was just a beat longer that Spencer held on to his innocent look. Then it melted away into a smirk better suited to the Trickster than to young man that everyone in the room knew. Seeing all the curious faces, Spencer shrugged, still smirking. “You all made it remarkably easy. I didn’t even have to say anything. You just all assumed it was each other each and every time, without any input from me.”

“You mean _me_. Everyone assumed it was just _me._ ” Gabriel corrected.

“What’re you two talking about?” Dean cut in, eyes going from one to the other.

Gabriel shook his head once more and the pride seemed to finally win out in his expression. It shone there with his amusement as he turned to look at the others. “Penny Pie here has been playing us all. I told you I didn’t start this prank war, Dean-o.”

Realization hit then and Spencer just sat back and enjoyed himself as he watched the reactions. Castiel—who paid attention to a lot more of this than he gave on—hid a small smile. Bobby chuckled openly and Sam laughed. But it was Dean who gave the best reaction. His eyes went wide, snapping back and forth between father and son. “Wait. You mean he started this whole thing—and used you as his fall guy?”

“Pretty much.” Gabriel said. His smile grew wider and he pretended to wipe away an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud right now.”

“It wasn’t difficult. He has a bit of a reputation, after all.” Spencer pointed out helpfully. “I mean, when you came downstairs that day, Dean, you didn’t even contemplate that it could’ve been anyone else. Your mind immediately went to Dad. I just…didn’t correct you.”

“So you’re the one who keeps sticking freaking lube _everything_?” Dean demanded.

Spencer didn’t say anything, but he smirked over at Dean and wiggled his eyebrows in a look that was pure Gabriel.

It was kind of funny to watch Dean speechless. He opened and closed his mouth more than once before finally snapping his jaw shut. With a furious growl and a glare, he spun and marched towards the kitchen. Spencer watched him go with an arched eyebrow. Then he looked over to Castiel. “ _I’m sorry, Uncle. I think I might’ve broken your human._ ” He said in Enochian.

Castiel’s lips quirked ever so slightly. “ _I don’t think he expected you to be quite so much like your father._ ”

“ _His mistake._ ” Gabriel said cheekily.

“Hey.” Bobby interrupted them with his own growl, which was admittedly a little more intimidating than Dean’s. “No super-secret-angel-talk.”

Spencer flushed a little and looked up at his human friends sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Our apologies, Robert.” Castiel said in that grave sounding voice of his. “We do not mean to be rude. It is simply nice, sometimes, to hear the sounds of home.”

It was hard for Castiel, Spencer knew, to be away from home like this, to not be able to go to Heaven like he wanted, _needed_. Hearing the bits of home helped him. Not just him, either. Spencer had always known how it eased something inside of his father when they spoke in Enochian to one another. His other kids knew it, too, but there was a vast difference in Enochian that was spoken by someone without grace compared to someone with it. For Spencer, Enochian would always be as easy as English to him, even easier sometimes. It was the language they’d spoken together in his earliest days when all they’d shared were dreams. Though Spencer hadn’t even realized it at the time, Gabriel had raised him bilingually, teaching him both languages in their shared dreamspace. Because of that, the sound would always mean home and family to him as well, even if it wasn’t the same as it was for Gabriel or for Castiel.

A brush of warmth against Spencer's mind drew him out of his thoughts. He looked up to find Gabriel smiling at him. Overhead, the conversation had changed back to Pestilence once more, and Spencer realized he’d drifted so far into his thoughts he’d apparently missed quite a bit. ‘ _Deep in thought, little fox?’_ Gabriel’s mind voice asked him, warm and full of love.

‘ _Just thinking, that’s all.’_ Spencer sent back. Snuggling down into the couch a little more, he pressed his feet just a little closer to Sam’s hip, sliding his toes under him just a bit. Sam never broke from what he was saying, but he dropped a hand down so that it rested on Spencer's ankle.

Leaning forward, Spencer went to set his mug down on the table in front of him, the one that Gabriel had snapped into existence earlier to hold their drinks and any books they were looking at. He was halfway there when the blast came across what the boys called ‘angel radio’. Generally, Spencer was too in touch with his human side to receive anything. Only big messages, the loud ones that rang over everything, like Dean’s resurrection, things like that. Even then, it wasn’t as loud or as strong as it could be, as it should be. But he’d been embracing more and more of his angelic side since he’d joined up with Team Free Will here and the cries that called across the waves now were strong and loud. He didn’t notice that he dropped his mug. It was only Sam’s quick reflexes that kept him from pitching down to the ground after it. Spencer curled into the touch even as he brought his hands to his head. He heard Bobby call something and Sam’s worried voice beside him, but it was Castiel’s voice he heard the clearest. “Something’s happening.”

“What is it?” Dean demanded, and when had he come back in the room?

A brush of his father’s grace washed over him and soothed away the feeling in Spencer's head. _‘Say nothing till we get back, Fox.’_ He was warned. He looked up to see Gabriel standing, his recliner gone, a blank mask covering his face. “Stay here!” Gabriel ordered sharply. Then, with a gust strong enough to send papers flying, he and Castiel were gone.

“What the hell was that?” Bobby asked.

Sam was carefully helping Spencer settle back, watching him with concern bright in his eyes and that little furrow of worry between his eyebrows. “Spencer?”

Wiping one hand over his face, Spencer blew out a breath and tried to make sense of what he’d heard, what he’d felt. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t even really a lie. “I’m not used to, to getting Angel Radio. I keep myself too human for that, and Dad says my brain kind of runs on a slightly different wavelength, so when I do get things there’s always a bit of static to it.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asked him gently.

Blowing out a breath, Spencer nodded even as he drew his feet down off the couch. He pulled himself away from Sam’s touch and pushed up to his feet, despite the urge to sink down and curl up against the hunter. “I’m fine. I just, I need some water. Excuse me.” Without waiting for them to say anything, he pushed his way through to the kitchen.

* * *

Spencer was on edge. He couldn’t help it. Whatever was going on, his father and his uncle were there, and he was here. Here, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes a bit distant. His focus wasn’t really on the room itself, though he kept track of its occupants. Bobby, seated at his desk. Dean and Sam at the table, drinking their beer and talking quietly. But most of Spencer's focus was outside the house. Whatever was going on had sent his family running and that meant it was up to him to hold down the fort here.

Because he was watching, he felt Castiel coming even earlier than usual. He pushed off the counter and was already most of the way to the living room when the angel arrived—with a dirt covered body draped over his shoulder. “Help!” Castiel growled out to them.

“Boys!” Bobby called.

Sam and Dean rose quickly from the table and followed in on Spencer's heels as Castiel moved over to the couch. A wave of Spencer's hand put sheets there just seconds before Castiel laid down the body he was carrying. Then the angel stepped back, his shoulder brushing against Spencer's, one invisible wing pushing against his own in a friendly, comforting gesture. One look at the face of this new man, at the _soul_ that shone out of him, and Spencer knew what this was. Without being told, he knew. Behind him, he felt it as the brothers both froze.

Unaware of what was going on here, Bobby looked down at the body and then over at them. “Who is it?”

A soft noise escaped Sam’s throat. “That’s our brother.”

Shock washed over Bobby’s face. “Wait a minute. Your brother? _Adam_?”

 “Cas, what the hell?” Eyes wide, Dean turned to look over at Castiel.

Two angel blades appeared from Castiel’s sleeves and were set down on the desk. “Angels.” There was a hint of hoarseness to that single word, a pain that Spencer thought the others didn’t even notice. He heard it, though, and he felt it in Castiel’s grace, the ache at having to harm his brothers. Without even having to think about it, Spencer pushed out a bit of his grace, offering what comfort he could. He lifted the wing closest to Castiel and brushed it up and under his in a sort of half hug. Castiel responded by curling that wing over Spencer's, hugging him back. It was all done without words, completely out of sight of the humans in the room, but it eased some of Castiel’s ache.

“Angels?” Sam repeated, surprised. “Why?”

Castiel could only shake his head at that. “I know one thing for sure. We need to hide him now.” Without hesitation, he stepped forward and put his hand down on Adam’s chest and carved the same symbols onto his ribs that he’d given to Dean and Sam. The shock of it jolted through the man and he arched and gasped on the bed, eyes opening wide. When Castiel pulled back, Adam sucked in a breath and his eyes ran over them all, taking in the room full of strangers. It was no surprise when he jerked back from them, sitting up quickly and scooting away as far as the couch would allow. “Where am I?”

Ever the calm one, it was Sam who took a small step forward, one hand extended in a gesture meant to calm. “It’s okay. Just relax, you're safe.”

Of course it wasn’t that simple. Adam turned his glare to Sam and demanded “Who the hell are you?”

Instead of Sam, it was Dean who answered this time. “You're going to find this a little...” Pausing, he tipped his head. “…a lot crazy, but we're actually your brothers.”

“It's the truth. John Winchester was our father, too.” Sam said, still in that same gentle voice, always the peacemaker. “See, I'm Sam…”

“Yeah, and I'm sure that's Dean.” Adam said, cutting him off. “I know who you are.”

Surprise flashed on the faces of Bobby and the brothers. Spencer and Castiel, however, shared a quiet look. They could both see where this was going even if no one else had figured it out yet. It had Spencer cursing long and loud inside his head. Oh, this wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“How?” Sam asked, sounding stunned.

“They warned me about you.”

“Who did?” Dean demanded.

Adam looked up at him, lifting up his eyebrows in that arrogant look that Spencer had seen countless times on Dean’s face. A look that apparently must be something genetic to Winchesters. “The angels. Now where the hell is Zachariah?”

Things were escalating quickly. Before anything could build too much or go too far, Spencer took a small step forward, putting a hand on Dean’s arm to silence the sharp retort he could see building on his lips. “Everyone just take a second to breathe. Yelling won’t fix any of this.” He gave the brothers a look, making sure they would stay calm, and then turned to face Adam. The young man glared up at him, completely unafraid as he demanded “Who are you?”

It took no thought at all for Spencer to make his decision on how to answer. “Fox.” He looked Adam over and arched an eyebrow. “Why don’t we at least get you cleaned up before we start talking? I can’t imagine it’s fun to sit there like that.” A wave of his hand and the dirt was gone, leaving Adam clean from head to toe, body _and_ clothes. Another wave and there was a bottle of water in his hand. “I imagine you’re thirsty. Drink up.”

The water bottle dropped, unopened, onto the couch cushion at Adam’s side. “You must be the other one they warned me about. The pagan.” He said with a curl of his lip.

The distaste with which he said that had Spencer raising his eyebrows. “Well aren’t you the prejudiced one?” Lifting a hand, he laid it over his heart and pulled on a mock-sorrowful look. “Why, you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Do monsters even have feelings?” Adam shot back.

The word ‘monster’ echoed around them and instantly wiped away any signs of playfulness on Spencer's face. He straightened up, eyes flashing with a power that definitely wasn’t the usual angelic gold they’d grown used to. Before he could say or do anything, Castiel took hold of his arm and drew him back a few steps at the same time that Dean stepped between the two, holding his hands out to either of them. “Woah, woah. The both of you just stow your weapons, all right? Let’s try getting through this without any bloodshed.”

“Aren’t you supposed to hunt things like him?” Adam asked, giving Dean the same arch look he’d been giving Spencer.

“We hunt evil.” Sam answered, a little more sharply than normal. “And he isn’t evil.”

That trademark Winchester grin flashed over Dean’s face and he dropped his hands down and shrugged slightly. “Well, not too evil. Besides, he kind of grows on you. Like a fungus.”

A fungus? Spencer turned his glare from Adam over to Dean. “Would you like me to _give_ you a fungus?”

“Aww, aren’t you guys just sweet? I love it when the kiddies are all getting along.” Gabriel’s voice rang suddenly through the room. It held a bright note of humor to it. When they all turned, he was leaning against doorframe between the kitchen and the living room, munching happily on a snickers bar. Twinkling eyes met Spencer's and the candy bar was shaken in his direction. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What did I say about giving your friends fungus, Fox?”

“Not to tell them first.” Spencer replied dutifully. _‘Are you okay?’_ he sent immediately afterwards. His eyes were running over Gabriel in search of any injuries or anything that might explain why he hadn’t come back with Castiel.

A reassuring pulse of grace had Spencer relaxing a little. _‘I’m fine, little fox. Just covering up baby bro’s trail, that’s all. Don’t need anyone finding their way here.’_

“Wow.” Adam said dryly, bringing eyes back over to him. “Some hunters you guys are. Just how many monsters are you friendly with?”

A snap echoed in the room and a strip of duct tape appeared across Adam’s mouth. Still in his spot against the wall, Gabriel let out a low chuckle. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely your brother there.” He leaned forward a little to be able to look around Dean to Adam. “Word to the wise there, kiddo—don’t piss off the guy with the magic powers. Ask these two bozos here, it never ends well.”

“No one’s fighting with anyone in my house. Why don’t we all just calm down?” Bobby said.

“We need to figure out what the angels want.” Dean said.

Gabriel made a scoffing sound. “Isn’t it obvious? I thought you guys were supposed to be smart. They’re moving on from you, Dean-o. He’s dear old John’s boy, Sammy’s brother. Not perfect, but he’d still do the job.”

“Wait a second,” Dean spun around, holding a hand out to the rest of the room in a bid for silence while he stared at Gabriel. “They’re _replacing_ me?”

“Don’t sound so butt-hurt, bucko. You’re still Mikey’s favorite prom dress, don’t worry.” Gabriel said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Oh hell no. _Hell_ no!”

“He is John Winchester's bloodline, Sam's brother.” Castiel said slowly, looking over at Gabriel and then back to Dean. “It's not perfect, but it's possible.”

A furious growl came from Dean. Reaching out, Sam put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, a warning and a comfort all at once. A little part of Spencer warmed to see Dean actually calm slightly under that touch instead of bucking it off as he might’ve a few months ago. Even under this stress, the boys were getting closer again, somehow managing to hold up underneath the ton of crap that was being shoveled their way. Sam glanced over at Adam, who was watching them all with a very Winchester like glare on his face, and then turned his attention back to the angels in the room. “Why would they do this? After everything that's happened? All that crap about destiny? Suddenly the angels have a Plan B? Does that smell right to anybody?”

This was apparently the limit for Adam. He pushed up from the couch, drawing all eyes over to him. “You know this has been a really moving family reunion, but uh, I got a thing, so….”

Immediately Sam let go of his big brother and the two of them turned towards Adam. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, no, no, no. Sit down. Just listen, okay? Please.”

“Just chill and listen for a minute.” Dean added in.

For the moment, Castiel took a step back, taking up post at Gabriel’s side, and Spencer stood back as well. This was a tricky situation and one that he had a feeling might best be handled by family. Not that Adam was likely to listen to Spencer anyways even if he did try to talk. The angels upstairs had obviously filled his head with quite a lot of crap about their little group here. Spencer took comfort from knowing that at least no one up there seemed to know about Gabriel’s presence.

“Adam.” Sam was using his calmest, most persuasive voice, the one he generally used on families they were trying to interview. “The angels are lying to you. They're full of crap.”

“Yeah, I don't think so.” Adam scoffed.

“Really. Why not?”

Lifting his eyebrows, Adam shot him an incredulous look. “Um, 'cause they're angels.”

That brought more than a few sounds of amusement around the room. Dean snorted while Bobby rolled his eyes. Gabriel chuckled and gave a low whistle, murmuring “Idiot” under his breath. Castiel said nothing, but there was a tension in his face, a small flare to his wings that showed how much he hated this, hated the lies. Spencer discreetly reached out and brushed a wing against his Uncle’s in comfort.

Sam, however, kept calm. He didn’t laugh or roll his eyes or do any of the things that Spencer knew he would’ve done otherwise. He just raised his eyebrows in return and calmly asked “They tell you they were gonna roast half the planet?”

“They said the fight might get pretty hairy, but it is the devil, right? So we got to stop him.” Adam said.

“Yeah, but not like that.” Sam argued. He took another deep breath and then spread his hands out in a sort of supplication. “Look, Adam…You don't know me from a hole in the wall, I know. But I'm begging you. Please, just trust me. Give me some time.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“Because we're blood.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Immediately Adam’s face went hard and his glare came back twice as strong. “You've got no right to say that to me.”

For the first time since this really got going, Bobby spoke up. “You're still John's boy.” He pointed out.

Adam turned is glare Bobby’s way. “No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I don't have a dad.” He spat out before turning back towards the brothers. “So we may be blood, but we are not family. My mom is my family. And if I do my job, I get to see her again. So no offense, but she's the one I give a rat's ass about, not you.”

“Is that what they promised you?” Dean asked him. “You let yourself be some angel condom and in return you get your mom?”

“What wouldn’t you do for your Mom?” Adam asked.

A loud sigh from Gabriel cut through any reply the boys might’ve been able to give to that. He shook his head as all eyes turned his way. “All right. It might’ve been fun to watch you guys bicker before, but I’m getting bored now. How about we try actually figuring out what we’re gonna do now an save the family feud for holidays like the rest of you strange humans do?”

“There’s no ‘figuring out’.” Adam said, a stubborn lilt to his chin. “I’m outta here.”

Dean turned to face him, one hand already up to stop him. “Like hell you are.”

“Someone’s got to, since you wouldn’t step up to do the job.”

The tension in the room skyrocketed instantly.

This was about to go really bad, really fast. Dean had drawn himself up and there was temper bright on his face, edged with a guilt so sharp Spencer could feel it. Adam’s words had cut sharp and deep; deeper than he probably realized. If someone didn’t step in, _now,_ there was a high chance the two might come to blows. Sam must’ve been thinking the same thing because he was moving forward, already reaching out to try and pull Dean back, but Dean looked far too furious to listen.

Gabriel made as if to step forward, only to have Spencer beat him there.

“All right, that’s _enough_.” Spencer straightened up to his full height and glared sharply around the room at everyone. His sharp order had had the desired effect; everyone went silent. Even Gabriel snapped his jaw shut, looking over at Spencer with a hint of surprise. When he was sure they were listening, he continued, his voice carrying an odd note of command to it. “Standing around here bickering isn’t going to do us any good. Neither is shouting. _No one_ is going to turn themselves in or play vessel to any angels.”

“I’m not letting them use him instead!” Dean snapped at him.

At the same time, Adam scowled and demanded “What are you going to do? Lock me up?”

Fury crackled in the air like a living thing. “ _I said enough_!” Spencer snarled at them. It was satisfying to watch their jaws snap shut. For the moment he ignored the others and focused solely on the two pissing him off the most. He spoke to Dean first. “I understand that Winchesters are predisposed to idiotic acts of self-sacrifice under the guise of nobility, but think about it for a minute and quit being stupid. They can’t use him if they can’t get to him, and I have no intention of letting them get to him.” His sharp eyes switched over to Adam, pinning him in place. “And if that means locking you up, then you damn well better believe I’ll do it.”

“Wow. I thought you guys were all about free will over here.” Sarcasm dripped off of Adam’s words.

“Keeping the planet alive kind of trumps the free will of one man.” Spencer shot right back. “Now, why don’t you all take a breather and then we can come back together and figure out what the hell we’re going to do.”


	14. Chapter 14

Of course, nothing ever went as planned. Spencer was beginning to believe that it was just a natural state around the Winchesters. Any plan they made seemed almost guaranteed to mess up. Plan A, and often Plan B, you just sort of had to expect they were going to fail.

Their plan basically ended up being a simple one. No one was saying yes to Michael. It was the same plan that they’d had all along, only they had another body to add into the mix, and this one seemed rather gung ho to put a wrench in their plans.

For two days they managed to keep Adam locked in Bobby’s place. Two days in which they’d had to watch the man almost constantly just to make sure that he didn’t try and slip away. That was how long their patience on it lasted and, honestly, Spencer had to admit he was surprised that they’d managed that long. However, he wasn’t the least bit surprised that it was Dean who was the one to finally lose his cool. Spencer had no idea how the argument had started. By the time he arrived, having been in the study with Bobby reading through some text when he heard the shouting, he found Dean and Adam almost toe to toe, shouting furiously at one another in the junkyard while Sam stood at their side, trying his hardest to try and get them to step back. It’d been agreed by all—except Dean, of course—that Dean shouldn’t watch Adam alone in the hopes of preventing something like this.

They should’ve known better.

Spencer marched right up to the trio with Bobby following right behind him. No calm, peaceful tone was going to cut through this fight. It wouldn’t be enough to reach through to them. So he used what he had and let temper lead the way. “What the _hell_ are you guys doing out here?”

He’d expected Dean to be the one to whirl and snarl at him so it was a great surprise when Adam was the one to do so. “I’m tired of being kept here like a prisoner!” The furious young man snapped sharply. “You can’t force me to stay here!”

“Just watch us, dude.” Dean fired back. “We’re doing a damn good job so far.”

The glare Adam shot him was hot enough it was a wonder Dean didn’t melt. “Maybe you’re all content to stand by and read your books while thousands of people are out there dying, but I’m not. So why don’t you guys let me go and clean up _your mess_?

The words alone were enough to spark Spencer's temper. But it was the full bodied flinch that Sam gave that really set him off. No one, absolutely _no one_ , got to make his charge feel that way. “That’s it. I’ve had all I can take of this.” Spencer drew himself up and marched forward. Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed Adam’s arm tightly and with a rush of wind, they were gone.

As soon as they landed he let go of Adam’s arm. It was almost amusing to watch the man startle back and stare around him in shock, and just a little bit of fear. “Where the hell are we? Where did you take me?”

“The Mojave.”

Adam’s eyes ran over the sand around him, the only thing for _miles_ , and then brought wide eyes back to Spencer. “ _Why_?”

The temper that Spencer had been holding back before snapped into his eyes now. If Adam had been able to see his wings, he would’ve seen them flaring up behind him in a move meant to show anger and intimidate. As it was, he had his grace shoved down far, the only magic showing the kind that came from the pagan part of his life. There was enough Loki in him, enough that had been taught to him to help him hide, that even were there another angel beside him right then they simply would’ve labeled him as one of Loki’s kids, not a nephilim at all. It made his eyes flash not with their usual gold, but with something darker, earthier, and Adam took a step back from that. “Because we need to talk.”

“We’ve…”

“No, I’m talking first, and you just get to listen. I’ve got a lot to say so I brought you here so that we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

There was a moment where it looked like Adam was going to speak up anyways. His mouth opened and a protest was easy to see forming on his lips. He looked every inch a hotheaded Winchester. But then he hesitated, something briefly crossing his features, and then his expression was smoothing out and he looked calmer, more in control. His mouth closed and he gave Spencer a nod to indicate that he was listening.

The fact that Adam was actually going to listen, that he wasn’t fighting this, took some of the edge off Spencer's temper. It calmed him enough that he could remind himself that things hadn’t exactly been the easiest for Adam. He’d been pulled out of his Heaven, told that he had to come play vessel to an archangel to fight against the devil, told that he was the only hope of saving the planet from Hell on earth, and then he’d been brought back only to get snatched up and dropped into the arms of people who were technically his family but who he’d been told were actually his enemies. Was it any wonder that the kid had been angry and volatile? They’d been lucky, really, that he wasn’t more like his father, or like Dean. If he was, there would’ve been a lot more cursing and probably a few punches as well.

Calmer now, Spencer blew out a breath, blowing away some of his tension. The glow in his eyes receded until they were their normal hazel once more. When he spoke, his voice was easy and level, yet it carried a note of seriousness that had Adam straightening up and paying attention. “This hasn’t been easy for you, and I won’t even begin to assume that I understand what you’re going through. You’ve been told stuff on both sides, each one trying to make you see why their side is the right one, but no one’s told you the whole story. No one has actually laid it all out for you from start to finish. But we can’t expect you to make an informed decision if we don’t give you all the information you need to do so. So I will. And, if once I’m done you still want to decide to go…I won’t stop you.”

That was obviously the last thing that Adam had expected. His mouth dropped open and he stared at Spencer in shock for almost a full thirty seconds. “Your friends won’t like it.” He finally pointed out.

Spencer shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll handle that if the time comes.”

“You’re that confident?”

“I believe that much in what we’re doing.”

It took almost a full half hour for Spencer to tell it to him in full. It was hard to tell a story that wasn’t entirely his to tell. There were parts of it that he refused to say because some secrets weren’t his to share. He explained that, too, telling Adam flat out “I won’t betray confidences like that. Some of this, I hate to say, you have to take on faith.” And he kept quiet on both his and his father’s real identities. But there was plenty enough that he _could_ say. About angels, and what they’d really been doing, how they’d lied to the boys to get them here, telling them they were helping when really they were helping their own agenda. And he explained the most important part of all—how True Vessels really worked. Everyone had talked to Adam about it only in the vaguest of senses, focusing more on what Michael would do once he was in him. But no one had taken the time to really explain what it would do to _Adam_. What it really meant for him. How he would be trapped in there the whole time, riding around in his own body but not in control, and what would be left of him whenever Michael finally let him go.

Spencer laid out everything that he could while standing in the middle of the desert where he had them shielded from anyone who might be watching or looking. No one, not even his father, would be able to find them here. And if his father couldn’t find them, then Zachariah couldn’t, either.

When he was done, a quiet fell over them, broken only by the sound of their breathing and the wind blowing through the sand. The heat of the sun had sunk into them and Spencer could see Adam sweating under it. A twist of his hand and a bottle of water appeared in the young man’s hand. Adam startled only for a second before he apparently decided that thirst won out over anything else at the moment. He unscrewed the lid and took a drank deep.

Lowering the bottle, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. There was a slight shake there that had Spencer wincing a little. When Adam looked up again, he looked upset, but more than that, he looked angry. “He told me I’d be able to see my Mom again. That they’d give her back to me.”

“He might’ve been telling the truth.” Spencer admitted. “I have no way of knowing what Michael would agree to. But you have to ask yourself if the prize is worth the cost. Is it a price that she’d want you to pay?”

The desert fell quiet once more.

CXCX

All of Team Free Will had gathered in Bobby’s living room. They were engaged in a rather loud debate and none of them noticed the arrival of two more people off to the side. Spencer hadn’t taken down the extra heavy shields he’d thrown over them when they first left, so the angels in the room didn’t even sense his arrival as they usually would have. It allowed them to stand for a moment and observe everyone. Everyone seemed to be trying to argue at the same time and it took a minute to sift through the voices enough for Spencer to realize that they were arguing about where he’d gone with Adam. Oh. Oh, boy, this was going to be fun.

Adam looked at the group with slightly wide eyes. Seeing it, Spencer smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You’re safe.” He teased. Then he looked back over at the group and then at Adam again. “Though, you might want to step back a little. Just in case.”

Bobby noticed them at the same time that Spencer dropped the heavy extra shields. Within seconds, all eyes were turned towards them, and there were more than a few angry looks. Spencer discreetly stepped away from Adam.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Dean demanded, pushing his way past his brother to march up to them.

They were all surprised when it was Adam, not Spencer, who answered. “The Mojave.” He smirked a little when everyone turned to look at him. Whatever nerves he’d had were gone and there was an amused smile curving his lips. “He wanted someplace quiet to talk.”

“The _Mojave_?” Incredulous, Dean looked from Adam over to Spencer. “You took him to the desert to talk? You couldn’t do it _here_?”

“Or, you know, tell us where you were going.” Sam added in. He didn’t look happy, either. Yeah, Spencer was going to have some apologizing to do later.

 “You took great risk by removing him from the protections of the house.” Castiel said sternly. His voice was lower than normal, a deeper rumble that Spencer recognized as anger and worry both. “We had no way of protecting either of you, or of even knowing if you were safe. It was foolish and dangerous.”

He shrugged one shoulder as casually as he could manage. “It was a sort of spur-of-the-moment decision. I didn’t plan it in advance. I just knew we needed to talk and there was no way it was going to happen here.”

“Why not here?” Bobby asked. He sounded calmer than the others, but he always had been level headed, gathering facts before forming opinions. He’d wait to make judgment until he had the full story.

It was sort of worrisome that Gabriel hadn’t said anything so far. He stood in the center of the group, arms crossed over his chest, and said absolutely nothing. He just stood there and stared directly at Spencer—a look that was made all the more unnerving by the fact that he wasn’t human and wasn’t required to do things like _blink_. It had the effect of making Spencer feel like a kid caught doing something they knew was wrong. He wanted to squirm underneath that stare and only just managed to resist dropping his head and shuffling his feet. “Because no one was talking here. Everyone was just fighting without actually saying anything.”

Once more, Adam came to his rescue. He closed the bit of distance that Spencer had put between them and stood firmly at his side. “Don’t get mad at him for this. He did the one thing that no one else was doing. He didn’t just tell me what to do and expect me to follow along. He explained things to me and answered my questions and then let me make my own decisions.”

That silenced the room.

Adam met all their stares without backing down. Spine stiff, eyes hard, he looked startlingly like Dean when his back was against the wall. Strong, proud, and sure of himself, not willing to back down in the slightest.

“And what’d you decide?” Bobby asked him.

Sharing a brief look with Spencer, Adam nodded a little and then looked back at the group. “I’ll stay with you guys and help you. I may not know how to fight, but I’m a quick learner, and I’m damn good at research. I’ll do whatever I can to help. But not for you.” He added firmly, making sure they all understood that. “I’m doing this for my Mom. She’d want me to do what’s right.”

CXCX

Adam’s offer to help quickly drew him in with the other humans. Spencer discreetly stepped back as Adam, Dean, Sam and Bobby gathered around Bobby’s desk and the brothers actually started to talk instead of argue for the first time. It was what they needed and there was no way that Spencer was going to interrupt it. There was something much more important he needed to take care of, anyways.

As soon as the humans had all started to gather, Gabriel had broken Spencer's gaze and then turned and marched out of the room. Walked, not flew. A moment later there’d come the sound of the front door shutting sharply and Spencer had winced. Oh, yeah, his Dad was _pissed_. Spencer took a moment to draw in a few fortifying breaths. Then, he closed his eyes and flew out to the yard. It only took him a second once he was out there to find his Dad. Gabriel wasn’t hiding. He was a little ways away from the house, far enough to guarantee privacy, sitting on the hood of one of the many broken down cars. Spencer chewed on his bottom lip as he cautiously made his way over there. He stopped a few feet in front of him, nerves building in his stomach until he was twisting his fingers together, unable to be completely still. “Dad…”

“Don’t.” Gabriel cut in sharply. His eyes lowered from where they’d been staring up at the sky and Spencer was pinned in place by the look in them. “I don’t want to hear it, Fox. Not right now. Not when I’m still this pissed off.”

Spencer wanted to talk, to explain that they’d just gone to talk, that was all, but he wasn’t stupid enough to speak after being told to be silent. His Dad wasn’t above stealing his voice if need be, he knew. All he could do was stand there and continue to twist at his own fingers as he waited for Gabriel to speak.

He didn’t have to wait too long. Gabriel closed his eyes and blew out a breath he didn’t even need. “I’ve been doing my level best to stay back and let you have some leeway with all of this, Fox. I’ve always tried to give you kids freedom to be who you are and I’m trying to respect the fact that, by human standards, you’re an adult. One that’s capable of making his own choices. It’s not easy, you know. To me, you’re still a fledgling, barely even old enough to be on your own, let alone running around in the middle of this giant steaming pile of crap. I fight the urge every day to gather you up in my wings and go hide out in Asgard until the whole thing is over with.” His eyes opened once more and they blazed as they locked on Spencer. “But Dad help me, if you ever block me out like that again, I’ll send you to stay with Fen until the apocalypse is over.”

Wincing, Spencer twisted his fingers even tighter and tried to speak again, getting out “Dad…” once more before he was cut off again.

“You didn’t just shield where you were, Fox. You vanished completely. I couldn’t feel you _at all_.”

That stunned Spencer into silence. While he knew he could hide his presence from his Dad, there was a connection between them, father to son, grace to grace, that always let them know the other was alive and well. Gabriel had told him once it was because part of an angel’s grace was used to make a nephilim and so there would always be a part of them that was connected to one another. Spencer had hidden his presence from his father before but no matter how tightly he’d shielded, disappearing that deeply had never happened before. He hadn’t even known it was possible. “But…I still felt you.”

Something of his shock must’ve been showing. A bit of the temper in Gabriel’s eyes faded and a furrow appeared between his brows. Then his whole expression changed to one of shock, eyebrows winging up towards his hairline. “You didn’t realize.”

“I wouldn’t shut you out like that. Dad, I wouldn’t. I didn’t even know I could!”

For a long moment Gabriel just stared at him. Or, more, stared _in_ him. Looking at the places that only another angel could see. When his expression finally cleared, there was a sort of understanding there. Spencer quickly found out why. “You’re more angel than you used to be.”

“What?”

“You’ve stopped trying so hard to be human. You’ve been using your grace a lot and it’s starting to show. You’re not locking it down as tightly anymore, so the more angel part of you is coming out and it’s making you stronger. Making your powers stronger.” At the stunned look that Spencer wore, Gabriel unfolded is arms from his chest and held them out. Spencer didn’t hesitate to step into them. The car Gabriel sat on was up enough that it actually allowed Spencer to be folded in against Gabriel’s chest without bending over, his head finding his father’s shoulder. “It’s not a bad thing, kiddo. There’s nothing wrong with having the powers that you do.”

“I don’t want that kind of power.”

“Why?” He asked. When Spencer didn’t answer, a hand settled in his hair, fingers carding through it. “C’mon, little fox. Talk to me. What’s going through that skull of yours, huh? What’s got you so afraid to be who you are?”

He’d never really come right out and said why he wanted so badly to pretend to be human. It wasn’t something that was easy to explain. Not without hurting him—which was the last thing that Spencer wanted to do. How could he tell his Dad that he was already enough of a freak as it was, he didn’t want to add even more powers to the mix and make himself even freakier? It would only hurt Gabriel. Spencer couldn’t do that to him. So instead, he burrowed in and just held on.

Gabriel sighed and tightened his grip on him. “All right. Keep your secrets then, little fox. But whether you like it or not, your powers are getting stronger, and you gotta make sure that you stay in control of them, cause I got a feeling they’re gonna come in handy here soon. Maybe it’s time we start back up some of your training, hm? What do you say?”

When Spencer just hummed lightly in response, the archangel chuckled. Neither one said anything as they both held on a little longer, each one thinking about the things to come.


	15. Chapter 15

It only took about a day after that for Adam to settle in with their little group. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told them that he was good at research. Bobby was beyond pleased to have the extra help. After he and Adam both reassured everyone that the two of them would be safe at Bobby’s, and after Spencer had given them a key of their own to get to the safe house _and_ Gabriel, Castiel and Spencer together had added some extra wards to Bobby’s property, the group finally set off to go on a simple salt and burn to keep them distracted.

While the brothers did that, Spencer went back to work on trying to find any information through his own contacts about Pestilence, since Crowley had yet to get back to him, while Castiel once more went on his search for God and Gabriel went back to reaching out to the pagans. Apparently he’d gotten more than a few swayed towards their side. What he was asking them to do, he didn’t quite explain, and Spencer didn’t push. There were quite a few that he knew in the pagan world but he wasn’t close to them the way that his father was and he’d always been kept a bit back from a good chunk of them, just for safety’s sake. His father’s adoptive family, he knew, and a few of Gabriel’s exes, but beyond that he’d been kept pretty sheltered from them.

Spencer was pacing his bedroom when he felt a small tug at the back of his head. It was a sensation he’d felt only rarely in his life and one that hadn’t often boded well for him. Someone was trying to summon him. Or, one aspect of him. Fox. But who on earth would be trying to summon him?

It tugged at him and the only things that allowed him to resist was that they were only summoning _part_ of him and he was in his safe house, behind countless wards. They protected him from being found and from being yanked out, but he was still able to _feel_ the call and choose whether or not to respond. There were a few possibilities on who it might be. Instead of just leaping to it, he decided to send up a prayer first. _Hey, Dad, I don’t know what you’re up to right now, but someone’s trying to summon me and I don’t really want to go without some backup. I’m in my bedroom right now._

The reply was almost instantaneous. “Someone’s summoning you? Which part of you?”

Spencer spun around to find Gabriel cross legged on his bed with a glass of some fruity looking cocktail in his hand. That said that wherever he’d been, he’d flown away without even thinking about it. “They’re calling Fox. And I hope you at least said goodbye to whomever you were with.”

Looking down at the drink in his hands, Gabriel shrugged and took a sip. “Old friend, he’ll understand.”

The tug in the back of Spencer's head grew a little louder. It still couldn’t force him with all the wards but it could annoy the crap out of him. Wincing, Spencer reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. When he opened his eyes he found his father looking up at him with sympathy. He knew what a summoning could feel like. “Go ahead and answer it. I’ll tag along behind.”

That was exactly what he’d hoped. He couldn’t ignore this just in case it was someone or something important but he hadn’t at all wanted to go into this blindly or alone. That was a quick way to get killed. Now that he knew Gabriel would follow, he followed that tug. Once he was outside of the wards all he had to do was let the summoning tug him. Seconds later he found himself standing in the middle of a rather run down looking excuse for a house. There in front of him, standing by a ritual bowl with all the markings of a summoning, was Crowley. As soon as Spencer saw him, he quirked an eyebrow. “A summoning, Crowley? Really?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.” Crowley said by way of answer.

That made him roll his eyes. Inside, though, he relaxed. Of all people, he wasn’t concerned about Crowley, and that would be even without his backup. He ran his eyes over the broken down shack and then brought his surprised gaze back to his host. “Such charming accommodations you brought me to. Your tastes sure have changed over the years.”

“Only the best for my favorite pagan whore.”

“I’m flattered, truly.” There was nowhere in here that Spencer was willing to risk sitting down on without either ending up covered in a layer of filth or breaking whatever he sat on, possibly even bringing down the house. This truly was the worst place he’d ever seen Crowley stay in. He knew the man was on the run, trying to hide out from Lucifer, but he hadn’t expected this. Waving a hand, Spencer conjured up two chairs. Then he dropped himself down into one. It was easy to slip back into the persona he’d built as Fox. He slouched his body down low, kicking both legs up over the one armrest and crossing them. Another wave of the hand and he had one of the few cocktails Penelope had introduced him to that he truly enjoyed. A slightly fruity, slightly sour mix with a sour gummi worm dangling off the end of the glass. It amused him to look at as he took a sip. “Well, now that you’ve got me in this oh-so-charming hovel of yours, what are you gonna do with me?”

Crowley didn’t hesitate to take the other chair that Spencer had conjured up. He already had his own glass of scotch in his hand and he smirked over the top of it at Spencer. “Oh, now isn’t that a gorgeous question. What would your precious new friends say if they could see you flirting with me now?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about them.” Gabriel said suddenly, snapping into existence right beside Spencer's chair. He slouched against the side of it, his drink from earlier gone. Smirking at the demon, who jumped at the Trickster’s appearance, he shrugged one shoulder and reached down into his pocket to pull out a sucker. “Me, on the other hand? Well, you might wanna keep an eye on me.”

“Loki.” Crowley’s eyes flashed a little as he turned them to Spencer. “You brought your father.”

This time it was Spencer's turn to shrug. “Did you really think I’d come to some random, strange summoning without some kind of backup?” He took another sip off his drink and gave a happy little hum at the taste. These really were delicious. Lifting the glass, he held it in Gabriel’s direction. “You should try these. They’re really good.”

He had to hand it to Crowley; even when faced with a situation that, from his side of things, was a lot crappier than he’d intended, he didn’t lose his composure or gripe too much. He settled back comfortably into his seat and his sneer never faded away. “At least you two are more pleasant in your threats. Those two nitwits would’ve already pulled out their guns. I much prefer the more civilized approach.”

“I could threaten you more, if it’d make you more comfortable.” Gabriel offered cheekily. He held up a hand as if to snap.

Spencer reached up and laid a hand on his father’s arm. “Now, now, let’s at least find out why he called us here first. We can threaten once business is done.” Dropping his hand back to his lap, he arched an eyebrow at the demon. “I’m assuming this is about Pestilence?”

“I didn’t call you just for your pretty face.”

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.”

The demon’s smirk sharpened a little. “Pull the other one, darling. It’s got bells on.”

For all that Crowley was a demon, there was a part of Spencer that had to admit that he had fun with this. With Crowley he at least knew the rules they were playing by and what to expect. Of course the demon would stab him in the back without hesitation. He had his own agenda, always, and he was good at keeping that hidden until it was too late to do anything about it. But that just gave their interactions an edge that made them all the more amusing.

“I know where your Horseman is going to be tomorrow, as well as some information I thought you might like about what exactly he’s been cooking up—and where.” Crowley told him, holding out a slip of paper between two fingers. A wave of Spencer's hand brought the paper over to him without either one of them having to move. Crowley didn’t flinch from it. He just lowered his arm back to the armrest. “Do try not to screw this one up, would you?”

“Getting a little tired of such a beautiful hideout?” Gabriel asked mockingly.

Crowley shot him a dark look. “Let’s just make sure this is done right, shall we?”

“Crowley.” Spencer put on a mock offended tone. “Don’t you _trust me_?”

“Not a lick.”

The corners of Spencer's mouth twitched up. “Smart demon.”

A snap of Gabriel’s fingers and the two of them were gone, the chairs Spencer had conjured gone with him. No one was there to see as the chair vanished out from underneath Crowley and he hit the ground, turning the air blue with curses as he did.

CXCX

Crowley’s information checked out. They looked it over and did a check before ever bringing it to the boys. What they found wasn’t exactly pleasing. It was smart, but terrifying. Not only did they have the location of Pestilence, they also had proof of what he’d been doing, about the Croatoan disguised as flu vaccines. The plan was pretty ingenious; Spencer had to give him that. If the ‘vaccines’ made it out there, the results would be devastating.

They split into two groups—one to take care of Pestilence himself and another to take care of the distribution center for the vaccines. It made sense to send the angels against the Horseman, so Gabriel and Castiel went after him, with Dean in their group, while Sam, Spencer and Bobby went after the shipments. That left Adam to act as their home base for this, keeping tabs on both sides and relaying messages back and forth. For that, Spencer asked him to at least set up at the safe house. It was the safest place for him while he was going to be without any kind of guard.

Spencer had no qualms at all at letting Bobby lead their half of things. He rode quietly in the back of the van and got himself in the mindset for the fight ahead. Once they arrived at the distribution center, he was ready. They kept watch, waiting and preparing. Bobby held a pair of binoculars as he watched the warehouse in front of them. “Yup, they're loading up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks.” Dropping the binoculars down, he turned to face Sam and Spencer. “Okay. First truck don't leave for an hour. We get in, we plant the C4 every 25 feet, then we pull the fire alarm…”

Because he was watching beyond them, Spencer saw as the one truck started to move. “I think we’re going to have to accelerate that plan, Bobby. That truck’s leaving.”

“Balls!” Bobby swore.

The three of them hurried to climb out. Sam and Bobby grabbed their guns while Spencer pushed away, not needing any of them. “Head inside, I’ll get the truck!” he called back to them. Then, with a rustle of wings, he was gone, flying straight into the passenger’s seat of the van. Taking out the driver of the truck was easy. Spencer had no qualms about taking out demons. His knife flashed as soon as he landed. He waited only long enough to be sure that the demon was gone before he flew again, appearing right behind Sam and Bobby as they were going through the door.

There weren’t just demons in there. There were in infected in there as well. Spencer, Sam and Bobby fought, getting out those that they could save and taking down those they couldn’t. And when they were done, they planted their C4 around the building and, as Bobby jokingly put it, committed their ‘act of domestic terrorism’.

They were halfway back to Bobby’s when Spencer got the message from his father. His whole face lit up and he relaxed, a relieved sigh slipping from him. It drew the attention of the two in the front seat. “What’s up?” Sam asked.

A smile curved Spencer's lips. “They got the ring.”

“They got it?” Bobby repeated.

“Yep. They have it and they’re on their way to the safe house now. So, we should probably speed things up a little.” Lifting a hand, Spencer grinned a little before taking a leaf out of his Dad’s books and snapping his fingers. The next second the van was sitting parked outside of Bobby’s place. Seeing the looks on his friend’s faces, Spencer chuckled. “I see why Dad likes that. It’s kind of amusing. C’mon, let’s go meet up with everyone.” Another snap of the fingers and they were gone from the van, landing in the living room of the safe house.

Having gotten used to things, Sam didn’t miss a beat when he found himself standing instead of sitting like he had been, but Bobby stumbled a little. The older man shot Spencer a glare. “Dammit, mutt, a little warnin’ next time?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Spencer asked innocently. Smirking, he turned and headed towards the dining room. When he got there, he froze, eyes locked on the table. Or, more accurately, on the ring sitting at the center of the table. “Holy shit.”

He felt as his father and Castiel arrived somewhere behind him, with Dean in tow. “Not exactly something I’d label holy, Fox.” Gabriel said, strolling forward. Then he caught sight of what Spencer was staring at and he went still at his side. “Well, well, well. Would you look at that?”

“What is it?” Bobby asked, coming up on Spencer's other side.

The brothers came forward as well, Dean and Adam with them. Spencer hadn’t even noticed Adam before, but he turned to look at him now. “When did that get here?” He asked, pointing at the ring that was still sitting in the middle of his table.

Adam lifted his eyebrows with surprise. “I didn’t see it there earlier. But I’ve mostly been down in the library.”

“To repeat Bobby’s question—what is it?” Dean demanded.

“It is Death’s ring.” Castiel answered him.

That quieted the room rather quickly.

Bobby was the one to break the silence. “I thought your wards kept out everything?”

Gabriel chuckled. “You can’t stop Death.”

“Well we’ve got all the rings now.” Dean said, still sounding stunned by this, like he hadn’t quite expected that they’d ever really get here. “We’ve got a way to open up the cage, now we just need to figure out how to get him inside.”

Sam cleared his throat, and all eyes turned is direction. “I may have an idea about that.”

CXCX

The group was still arguing loudly when Spencer slipped away and headed outside. He doubted anyone would notice him leaving with all the chaos in there. They were all too busy furiously shouting over top of one another about Sam’s _fantastic_ idea. Spencer wondered absently to himself if maybe he’d been spending too much time around his father; even his thoughts were turning sarcastic and snarky now. Sighing, he pushed that all aside and made his way over to the steps of his back porch. He settled himself down there and stared out over the darkened yard. It was evening here, the stars just starting to come out in the sky. Spencer stared up at them and tried not to think about the important conversation happening in the house behind him. He tried not to think about stupid, absolutely moronic plan to say yes to the damn Devil and then throw them both into the cage.

How long he’d been sitting there, blanking out his mind, he wasn’t sure. But the quiet of the night was suddenly disturbed by the sound of the back door opening and then shutting softly. He didn’t bother moving from the porch step. He knew who was coming.

There was the sound of footsteps soft against the patio and then legs shifted into view alongside him and he looked up to see a sweater dangling there, held by Sam. “You looked like you were cold.” The man offered. Spencer stared for a second before he took the hoodie. He didn’t realize until he’d slipped it on that it was one of Sam’s. It was quite big on Spencer's slender frame, and the arms were just long enough that he could easily keep his hands inside the sleeves. It smelled like him, too, and that was a lot more comforting than Spencer wanted to admit to. He burrowed down inside of the sweater and crossed his arms on top his knees, letting him sink down a little more. Laying his face on his arms, he buried his nose against the sleeve and drew in the scent there, a mix of coffee and the cologne that Sam always wore.

Neither man said anything at first as Sam sank down onto the step beside him. For a few minutes they just sat there, side by side, staring out at the darkened yard.

After a few minutes, Spencer found words bubbling up in him despite his best efforts. “I can’t stand back and watch you try and throw yourself in there, Sam. You can’t ask me to do that.”

“I don’t want to, but it’s an option. One we have to at least consider.”

“No, we don’t.” Spencer said firmly. He curled his hands, gripping at the sweater’s sleeves. “I made a promise to you when I took you on as my charge. I told you once, I’d take harm myself before allowing any to come to you. I wasn’t lying. I will do anything, absolutely anything, if it means keeping you from jumping in there.”

“If it comes down to it and it’s our only option, I have to do it, Spencer. I let him out. I’ve got to do anything I can to put him back in.”

“What if there was a different option?” He blurted out.

Surprised, Sam looked away from the yard and over to Spencer. “What?”

Spencer chewed on the inside of his lip and snuck a look over at his charge, his friend. He hadn’t talked about this to anyone yet and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say anything now, before he’d gotten things figured out. But he would have to tell at least Sam eventually anyways. Why not now? “What if I could give you a different backup plan?”

“What is it?”

He cast a glance back towards the house where the others still were. The only people capable of hearing him at this distance were the two he wanted to hear him the least. However, years of watching his father had taught Spencer quite a few tricks, both angelic and pagan, and he used those now to give them as much privacy for their conversation as possible, making sure no one would hear him. Then he turned back to Sam and, with a deep breath, laid out the backup plan that he’d slowly been building in his mind for a while now.

When he finished, he let the silence settle over them, allowing his words a moment to sink in. That was one thing that he really liked about Sam. For the most part, the man tended to think things through, letting it run through his mind _before_ he spoke. It perfectly balanced out the more emotional responses that his brother gave. It was part of why, in Spencer's opinion, the two worked together so well.

It didn’t really surprise him when Sam’s first question was “Is it safe?”

There was no way he could lie directly to him. Not when those puppy-dog eyes were looking at him so earnestly and so full of concern. But Spencer knew how to mince words with the best of them. “It’s a lot safer than saying ‘yes’ and trying to fight back control.”

“That doesn’t technically answer my question.”

He really needed to remember that this man had been planning on being a lawyer and had been trained most of his life to be a conman. Words were his area of expertise, too.

Spencer drew in another deep breath and then blew it out slowly. Then he surprised Sam completely by reaching out and laying a hand over his arm, right against the curve of his elbow. It wasn’t normal for Spencer to instigate any kind of touch and the fact that he was immediately had all of Sam’s attention. “I’m not bringing this to you just out of nowhere, Sam. I’ve been looking into it for a while. There are risks there, I’m not going to lie to you about it, but everything we’re planning right now has risks to it. I promised you at the start of this that I would do everything I could to keep you safe. If all of our other plans fail, this is my best way at doing that.”

“I want you to be safe, too.” Sam said softly. There was so much emotion packed into those low words. All the emotion that they both knew was there and that they’d avoided bringing out into the light. Until now. The way Sam said that, the way he was looking at Spencer, was pushing them in a direction that Spencer had been trying so very hard to avoid. Spencer's voice lowered, even softer than Sam’s, barely a whisper in the night air. “Sam…”

The other man didn’t give him a chance to finish, cutting in quickly. “I know you feel it too, Spencer. I wasn’t sure for a while, but after everything lately, after that night, with your wings…I knew.”

This was the last conversation that Spencer had wanted to have. They’d been doing so well, pretending it wasn’t there! He should’ve figured that Sam wasn’t just going to let it lie, though. Sighing, Spencer drew his hand back in, forcing himself to let go of his arm. “Sam,” This time there was a hint of sorrow to the Hunter’s name. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he knew he should. He couldn’t lie. Another sigh slid free as Spencer crossed his arms over his stomach. He turned away, looking down at the ground. “We can’t do this. You know we can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

The ache in that had Spencer closing his eyes. His grace churned inside of him, wanting nothing more than to reach out to the human beside him and wrap around him. His wings trembled with the urge to do the same. Only by sheer will did he keep them both close. “You know why. You mean…more to me than anyone ever has…”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.” Sam said wryly.

“You’re a smart man, Sam. You and I both know my chances of surviving this whole mess are pretty much nonexistent.”

“I’m just as likely to die in this, Spencer, if not more so.” Sam pointed out bluntly. “Why should that stop either one of us? Do you think it’d be any easier afterwards, living with the knowledge of what we could’ve had and _didn’t_? I’d rather take what I can get with you, no matter how long it lasts, than get nothing at all.”

Spencer's grace flared inside of him at that and it showed in his eyes when they snapped furiously to Sam’s face. “I will do everything in my power to make sure that you survive this, Samuel Winchester. If your death can be prevented, I will do it, no matter the cost.”

“And I plan on doing my best to keep you alive, too.”

Frustration had Spencer rocking back. “It’s not that _simple_.”

“Why not?”

Was he going to make him spell it out for him? How on earth had anyone not realized this yet? It seemed so obvious to Spencer. “I’m not going to be able to keep my secret here, Sam. You know it, I know it. Everyone else would know it if they stopped and thought about it. If I don’t die in this fight, then it’s only a matter of time before either angels or demons grab me in an attempt to take my grace, to use me to gain power, or to try and kill me before I kill them. Anyone I care for, anyone I’m attached to, will be at risk.” He lifted his eyes again and the anger drained away, leaving sorrow in its place. “I’m not going to save you from all this only to have you ending up killed because of me. I won’t do that. I can’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“Sam…”

“No. Listen to me.” To Spencer's surprise, Sam moved, his long body flowing forward and twisting until he was crouching down in front of Spencer instead of sitting beside him. Reaching out, he braced those large hands on Spencer's knees, keeping him from moving away. Not that Spencer was going anywhere. How could he when those earnest eyes were staring up at him with so much damn emotion in them? “I get what you’re trying to do here, Spencer, I do. You want to protect me and I understand that. I want to keep you safe, too. But you’re missing something really important.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing down. What? What had he missed?

One of Sam’s hands lifted off Spencer’s knee, coming up to cup the side of his face, and Spencer couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down him. Sam’s expression gentled and a hint of a smile curved his lips. “Whether it’s as your friend, your charge, or something more, by the time this is over everyone’s going to know that we’re close. That we’re ‘attached’, as you put it.”

“You’re at risk as my charge, but nowhere near as much as you’d be if we took this further.” Spencer argued.

It didn’t deter Sam at all. If anything, he smiled. His thumb stroked softly over Spencer's cheek. “But either way, I’m at risk. Shouldn’t it at least be for a good reason?” His lips curved up and those damned dimples of him were showing.

A low huff slid from Spencer and he half-glared at him. “I don’t know why Dean whines about your puppy eyes. Those dimples of yours are a lethal weapon.”

Sam’s smile grew bigger and there was a light, pleased flush that colored his cheeks. And really, how could Spencer resist? Even though there was still a big part of him that told him that this was a mistake, that he was putting Sam at so much risk, he didn’t move away or even try to stop him as Sam used the hand on Spencer's cheek to draw him in. The first brush of their lips was soft and hesitant, a teasing touch that had Spencer leaning in for more. He forgot all of his protests when Sam finally took his lips in their first kiss. It was sweet, a gentle heat that was melting through the tension in Spencer's body, making him lean in to Sam’s touch. When Sam finally pulled back, Spencer blinked open eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed and found that Sam’s face was only inches in front of his, his eyes locked right on Spencer's. They were a deep sort of bluish-green at the moment, a color he’d never seen them be, full of warmth and heat that had Spencer lost in them.

Whatever either one of them might’ve said next was cut off when Spencer felt a warning come from his father. He blinked his eyes a few times to clear them and then a flush colored his cheeks. “We should get back inside.” Spencer murmured, a corner of his mouth quirking up. “According to Dad, your brother’s about ten seconds from trying to come hunt us down, despite Dad and Uncle Cas trying to distract him.”

“I’m beginning to think my brother’s got a radar that tells him I’m having an important moment, please come interrupt.”

Spencer smiled as he nuzzled against Sam’s palm. “We should get back in there anyways.”

“This conversation isn’t over with.” Sam said softly, almost hesitantly. He wanted to push it, Spencer could tell. He wanted to make sure that they were on the same page here with one another. But he was giving Spencer an out, too. No matter how badly Sam wanted this he wasn’t going to force it on Spencer. The ball was firmly in his court now. And staring down into those open and earnest eyes, there was only one way Spencer could answer him. Lips curving up just a little, he nodded. “We’ll finish it later.”

The way that Sam lit up, eyes, body and soul made it worth it.

They’d both pushed up to their feet and Spencer was just getting ready to drop down the wards he’d put up to keep them private when something came to him. He paused, turning towards the hunter, and he bit the inside of his lip for a second before he found the words he wanted. “Sam, what I told you out here…I need you to keep that between us for now. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay.”

Surprise lit Spencer's eyes at how easily Sam had agreed to that. The hunter must’ve seen it because he smiled again, another flash of dimples, and reached out to give Spencer's shoulder a brief squeeze. “I trust you.” He said by way of explanation. Then, dropping his hand, he made his way into the house, leaving Spencer staring after him with wonder and amazement, and just a small hint of guilt. He pushed the guilt down and buried it deep before he followed the hunter back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming up on the end here, folks! Woo hoo! I hope I still have a few of you out there and that I haven't lost you all with my slow updates before. For those of you still here, thanks for sticking around :) I hope I've made it worth it lol


	16. Chapter 16

When Spencer and Sam slipped back into the house, they weren’t noticed right away by the humans in the room. Castiel said nothing, but the small smile that touched is lips as his eyes flickered their way said that he saw them. Gabriel wasn’t anywhere near as subtle. He looked up at the two of them and gave them a grin and an eyebrow wiggle that had Sam flushing and Spencer rolling his eyes. The others finally noticed them as Spencer slid down into the seat next to Gabriel, who had scooted over enough to open up two seats side by side, allowing Spencer to sit by him and Sam to sit by Spencer. All eyes landed on the two as they sat. Or, more accurately, on Spencer and on the sweater he was wearing. The nephilim rolled his eyes again and shoved the sleeves back off his hands so he could wave a hand and create a mug of coffee. “Shut up.” He told them all before anyone could say anything. “Has everyone managed to stop arguing and build a plan yet?”

Gabriel snickered openly at his side, earning him an elbow jab from his son that only turned his snicker into an out and out laugh. Settling, he leaned back in his chair and dropped an arm along the back of Spencer's chair. “The plan’s the same it always was. We grab every ally we can and then we take the fight to Luci.”

“Are you _insane_?” Adam asked him incredulously. “I thought fighting was what we were avoiding!”

“It’s been said.”

“By many.” Spencer added on.

A flick to the back of the head silenced him. Still smirking, Gabriel focused on the table. “We’re trying to avoid Mikey and Luci fighting, not us fight. Us fighting was always gonna have to happen. Right now, Mikey doesn’t have a vessel to fight in—both options are here at the table. Lucifer has his vessel, but it’s not as strong as Sammy-boy here. We’ve got the keys to open the cage, and we’ve got people on our side willing to fight.”

“So you want to, what, summon Lucifer to a certain place and then try to just shove him through the door?” Bobby asked him.

“How else did you think we were gonna get him in there? Aside from Gigantor’s idea, that is.”

“To fight against an archangel, even in a weakened vessel, is suicide.” Castiel said.

“For you.”

Those two words silenced the protests at the table. At least, from most of them. Spencer sat up straighter and almost dropped his cup on the table in his hurry to turn towards his father. “ _What_?” The word came out high and sharp. Gabriel winced slightly, but then he smiled sort of sad and soft. “Who else did you think it was gonna be, little fox? Who else here has the juice to actual go up against my big bro and stand a chance at winning?”

“I thought you were planning something else! Some kind of trick!” Spencer couldn’t believe this. His father, who had stayed out of this until forced, who had run from Heaven just to get away from the fighting, was going to stand up and fight his brother now?

The look on Gabriel’s face softened even more. His hand came off the back of the chair to tangle in the long strands of Spencer's hair. His tone was soft, too, but it was firm, unyielding, letting Spencer know that he wasn’t going to be argued with on this, that his mind was firmly made up. “I said I wouldn’t kill my brother, and I won’t, but I’m the only one here with the juice to fight him back into his cage. I’m the only one that can do it, Fox. Whether you like it or not. I’ll take care of my brother.” He turned back to the table then, and there was no sign of the Trickster on his face, no sign of the laughing man they were all so familiar with. He was steady, serious, a general speaking to his troops. It had Castiel sitting up straighter, responding to the power of an archangel. “Lucifer would destroy any of you with a thought. You don’t stand a chance against him—but I do. I’ll handle him. What I’m going to need from all of you is for you to handle whoever he brings with him.”

“I hate to be the one to bring this up.” Dean said slowly. “But aren’t we just sort of trading one prizefight for another? I mean, we did all this to _stop_ two archangels from fighting.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Different power levels, for one, Deano, and for two, they’d be going to kill one another, an all-out battle with body and grace both. I’m not stupid enough to play that game. I’m not going to fight to kill, just to knock him into a giant gaping hole.”

“So what’re the rest of us looking at?” Sam asked. “Demons, I’m guessing. Is he going to have any angels on his side?”

“We better hope not.” Spencer sighed out.

“Most likely there’ll be more demons than you’ve seen. It won’t be an easy fight.” Castiel said.

“Yep.” Gabriel agreed. “That’s why we gotta start gathering allies—now. The longer we wait, the more likely Luci’s gonna know what we’re doing. We wanna give him as little time to mobilize as possible.” Straightening up, he smiled at everyone. “Time to start making calls, boys and girls.”

CXCX

For the gathering of allies they weren’t going to use Spencer's safe house, nor Bobby’s place. Gabriel had a place already set aside and prepared for this. A house big enough to hold the humans that were brought in. Sam, Dean, Adam, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Rufus. Plus, space for the others who came. The pagans that Gabriel contacted didn’t come to stay, but they gave their promise to show up at the appointed time and place. Gabriel’s other kids also joined the group.

Fenrir was the first to show up. He arrived not even a full day after the group meeting, with a smile on his face, ready to fight. Spencer wasn’t surprised by that. He’d known this was a fight Fen wouldn’t be able to resist being a part of. Fen also quickly took a liking to Sam and Adam both, so the two weren’t often alone. Spencer had a feeling that was partly for him. His big brother knew how worried Spencer was about having his hunter around all these different people. So Fen kept an eye on them for him.

As the house started to fill throughout the day, Spencer found himself drawing back more and more form the group. They were all charged with the readiness of the fight that was to come in the next few days. At the moment, Spencer didn’t feel that. He couldn’t feel that. Not yet. There was too much racing through his head. The threat of what he might lose hung heavily over him and took away some of the hope that he’d been clinging to.

He found peace, surprisingly enough, with Dean of all people. The hunter had taken to hiding out in the giant garage that Gabriel had provided for him. He had his baby in there and was working on giving her a complete overhaul as far as Spencer could see. Really, he was just keeping himself out of the house and away from all their new guests. He wasn’t like Sam, who immersed himself in preparations or in showing Adam how to fight, or any of that. He hid out here in the garage where there wasn’t much in the way of sound. Just him and his music. Spencer didn’t know why he’d found his way out here with the hunter, or why he was perched on a few old tires watching Dean work, but it was a hell of a lot better being out here than in there. Dean didn’t comment on it, either. He simply gave Spencer a curious look when he arrived and then went back to his work.

They’d gone through a handful of songs before Dean finally spoke. Even then, it was only to gesture towards his toolbox and ask if Spencer could hand him something.

Spencer gave him the necessary tool. When Dean slid back underneath the car, Spencer chose to fold himself down there beside him, keeping close enough to hand over anything the other man might need.

A chill washed over Spencer's skin as he sat there and he tipped his head, looking towards the doors that would lead outside and over towards the house. He didn’t realize that Dean had slid out from under the car until the man suddenly spoke. “What is it?”

Surprised, he looked back at Dean, not quite understanding the question at first. Then he blinked his eyes a few times to clear them and realization settled in. Oh. “I just felt…my sister’s here.”

“Your sister?” Dean asked, surprised.

“Hel. She rules over Helheim, which is pretty much the Norse version of Hell, in simple terms. She doesn’t typically leave there, but I had a feeling she would for this.”

“Norse hell?”

Spencer raised an eyebrow at him. “You think you’re the only beings to have a hell? There is a variation of hell for each religion out there, Winchester. They’re all interconnected, of course, but still their own separate places. If you wanted, you could travel between them, so long as you find the right portal. At least, that’s my understanding of it. Even I can’t quite keep up with Hel when she tries to explain it. Not that she’s ever all that forthcoming about it.”

“And they don’t, I don’t know, try to take over one another’s spaces?” Dean asked. He huffed out a breath at his own question and shook his head. “Man, I never thought I’d be having a discussion like this.”

“I don’t know. Hel always tells me that that’s something that’s between them and for me not to worry about it. It’s the one thing she won’t talk to me about and I’ve stopped asking.”

Shaking his head again, Dean sat up and reached for a beer from the cooler nearby. “Dude, your family is strange.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my family.” Spencer protested.

“Oh, no, you’ve just got an archangel hiding as Loki, and his kids—a nephilim, a giant wolf, a ruler of hell, and what did I hear Sammy call the other one? A world serpent or something like that?” Snorting, Dean took another drink and shook his head again. “Yeah, you guys are completely normal.”

Gabriel chose that moment to materialize at Spencer's side. “Normal is boring and highly overrated.” He grinned at having startled Dean, but he quickly turned his attention to Spencer. “Hel and Jor are both here. Are you planning on coming in and saying hi, or are you gonna keep sulking out here with the cranky Winchester? There’s food cooking, too. Last I saw Bobby and Rufus were playing grumpy old men by the grill.”

Instead of answering verbally, Spencer simply vanished, the rustle of feathers as muted as the nephilim’s mood had been. Gabriel stared at the space he’d been and sighed. When he noticed Dean watching him, he wiped away his worried look and his usual mask slid in place, a smirk curving his lips. “Teenagers.”

Setting down his beer, Dean pushed himself up from the ground, grabbing a rag as he did to wipe off his hands with. He surprised Gabriel by looking more serious than he usually did. It was obvious there was something that he wanted to say. Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and waited. The hunter didn’t make him wait long. “Look, I know it’s not my place to say anything. You’re his Dad and all. But you should take it easy on the kid.”

Well that hadn’t been what he’d been expecting at all. “What?”

“I’m just saying…Spencer never wanted you involved in this. He made it clear from the start that he was gonna help us on the condition that we never pressed about who his father was or on trying to get you to help. He wanted you safe. Now he’s got you fighting against Lucifer, Sam offering to say yes and throw himself into hell, plus his siblings and his friends are all fighting in this. He’s got a hell of a lot to lose here and it’s scaring the hell out of him.” Tossing the dirty rag over on the shelf, Dean turned back to face Gabriel, who was watching him with open surprise. “Listen, I may not get how this whole angel-age thing works, but I look at Spencer and you know what I see? I see a scared little kid who’s terrified of losing his family and trying his best not to let anyone see it. You might try thinking about that instead of just mocking him for ‘sulking’.”

Having said his piece, he turned and left the garage, leaving a stunned archangel behind.

CXCX

Meeting the rest of Spencer's family was an interesting experience. Sam could honestly say he’d never thought that he would find himself sitting in the backyard of a house created by an archangel, chatting it up with the children of Loki and listening to stories that, until now, had been simply another legend to him. Yet here he was, a beer in hand and the warm presence of Spencer right up against his side. A little ways in front of them lay Fenrir, in his wolf form—his _immensely large_ wolf form, which he could apparently still actually talk in. The wolf lay curved a little, with Hel and Jor sitting side by side and leaning back against him.

Jörmungandr—“Just call me Jor, really. It’s a lot easier than listening to everyone botch my name all the time”—was the middle of the three, the trio that shared the same mother and father. Looking at the man, there was almost nothing that gave him away as anything but human, except for his eyes. They were the same golden eyes that Fenrir had, that all of Gabriel’s children had. His hair was a bit darker than Fen’s, a deep brown that was kept short. He wasn’t as tall as his brother, nor as muscled, but he wasn’t as whipcord thin as Spencer was, either. There was a sense of hidden strength in that lean body.

Hel, however, was a different story entirely. When she’d first shown up, Sam hadn’t realized that she’d been wearing an illusion. All he saw was the light skin, the mane of dark brown hair, and the smiling golden eyes that were just a bit cool. It was only later, when the others had gone to bed and they’d all settled here to relax with their beers that she’d let go of the illusion, showing the real woman underneath. She was blue skinned, which Spencer quietly murmured she got from her mother, only the blue took on this ashy sort of hue to it that Spencer said Hel absolutely hated, and her hair was dark. “The other two actually change their forms, but Hel can’t.” Spencer murmured to Sam at one point, pressing in against his side to make sure he was close enough to be heard without others listening in. “But out of the three, she got the most of Dad’s illusion ability, so she usually hides herself in the rare times she comes out.”

Most of the guests had gone to bed as it’d gotten dark. It left Gabriel and his kids out here, plus Sam, Dean, Adam, and Castiel. They were all stretched out here and there on the grass in a loose sort of circle. It was, nice. Relaxing. And when Sam felt Spencer lean in just a little more, it was even nicer. It made him want to smile each time he looked over and saw the young nephilim there, once more wrapped up in the sweater Sam had given him yesterday.

When they’d all settled in, Castiel had hesitated, obviously not quite sure where to go or what to be doing here. Dean looked up at him and arched an eyebrow. “Quit being creepy, Cas. Pull up a spot.”

Seeing the confused look on the man’s face, Spencer smiled up at him and patted the grass between him and Dean. “What he means is that you should sit down with us, Uncle. No need to be the only one standing. Humans tend to find that rather uncomfortable.”

Castiel nodded and folded himself down to the ground, his legs crossed in a position that mimicked Dean’s, though he held himself much more stiffly. There were a few smothered chuckles at that and Dean openly shook his head at him. Then he looked around him to Spencer. “So is it an angel thing, being awkward?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.” Spencer said. “I’ve tended to avoid angels at all costs. But I imagine it’s pretty common. Their way of existing is extremely different from ours.”

“It is.” Gabriel said simply, leaning back against Fen and sipping from the glass in his hand. “Cassie’s actually not as bad as some. Hard to know how to mimic you mud monkeys when they don’t ever leave their clouds.” From him, the usual insult didn’t have quite the same sharp edge as it had when Uriel or Zachariah had said it.

“So what’s your excuse, then?” Dean teased Spencer.

To the amusement of the group, Spencer stuck his tongue out at Dean. “I’m not exactly human either, Winchester.”

“Yeah, but you grew up human.”

Instead of just brushing it off, Spencer surprised them with the candid honesty that he showed now and again. “Not many kids want to socialize with the smart kid in class. When I got older, I got bumped up a few grades, and there aren’t many teenagers that want to socialize with a kid that’s years younger than them and grade levels smarter than them. I spent most of my free time with books, not people.” He shrugged one shoulder and shifted against Sam, who instinctively lifted an arm to make more room for him. It warmed Sam a little when Spencer shifted right into that hold, not protesting the arm that slid around his shoulders and held him close.

“Let me put it this way. Imagine a ten year old Castiel.” Spencer said. He paused at the snort Dean gave to that and he gave a small smile. “I know. Just, imagine it. A ten year old Castiel, still with all the same discomfort in human gestures, with his innocence and his lack of knowledge or understanding in basic human interactions. Someone who always misses the joke being told and, really, doesn’t realize most the time that there even _was_ a joke. Someone who is exponentially smarter than those around him and who wants to share that knowledge with everyone, so much so that he doesn’t realize that most of the time people don’t want that knowledge, or they assume he’s mocking them or shoving his smarts in their faces. Imagine all that in this small, short, skinny little ten year old boy with glasses, and then toss that little boy into a Las Vegas public high school.”

“He was a geek.” Hel said. She sounded fond when he said it, though, and she smiled over at Spencer.

Spencer, in turn, scowled at her. “I am not.”

“Dad’s little nerd.” Jor teased him, smirking in a way that was almost identical to his father.

A large tail flicked at Jor, knocking him in the back of the head, and he turned to scowl at Fen, who rolled his eyes at him. “Quit picking on him.”

“Yeah, snakey.” Hel said mockingly. “Be nice to the runt.”

This wasn’t the first time all evening that the group had started to bicker with one another. Sam was used to sibling arguments; he had plenty enough with Dean. But these guys took the cake. Dean, apparently, thought the same thing, only he didn’t have the brain-to-mouth filter that Sam did. “You guys are the weirdest family I know.” He told them, shaking his head. “An coming from me? That’s saying a whole hell of a lot. How the hell do you guys manage not to kill each other?”

“Dean!” Sam hissed. His tone was scandalized, that purely embarrassed little brother tone.

But they weren’t offended by his words. In fact, they all laughed, Gabriel included. “You have no idea.” The archangel said, rolling his eyes and grinning.

Fen barked out a low, gruff laugh. “It helps when you’re pretty tough to kill.” He said with a sharp toothed grin.

Dean grinned right back at him. “Yeah, I bet that helps.”

Seeing that the siblings didn’t seem to be bothered by this gave Sam a little courage to speak up as well. “If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t really guess you were all related. You guys all seem so different.”

Fenrir nodded in agreement. “We are, for the most part. We’ve all got bits that are the same. Spencer likes to say we’ve all got different aspects of Dad’s personality.”

“Hel got the bitchy part.” Jor piped up, smirking at her when she glared. “The cool, nasty, think-they’re-better-than-everyone, I’m-never-wrong attitude.”

Not one to be outdone, Hel sneered at him and shot back “Jor got his Loki side. That’s why he’s a snake. Sly, devious, cunning, ruthless. Manipulative.”

He lifted his drink in her direction in a mocking ‘cheers’. “Love you too, sister dear.”

This must’ve been a common conversation because Gabriel didn’t interrupt them, just rolled his eyes.

“Which part did Spencer get?” Adam asked.

“The archangel side.” Hel, Jor and Fen all said together.

“He’s got the caring heart in there, the love and forgiveness.” Jor said, and Hel nodded, adding “But he’s got the deadly side, too.”

“Probably why Spencer got into law enforcement.” Fenrir said in that low rumble of his. “He wants to help save people, but he wants to stop the bad guys. And Grandfather help you if you cross one of those lines that he’s put down in the sand. Sweet he may be, but he’s a deadly little shit when he’s pissed.”

“Shut up.” Spencer grumbled, burrowing down a little like he was trying to hide.

Amused, Gabriel tossed in his own two cents. “He’s got a lot of his mother in him, too. That geeky, genius side of him, that’s all her.”

“She’s a nice lady.” Jor said. “I always wondered what she saw in _you_.”

Gabriel turned to smirk at him. “I’m hot, and funny.”

“Looking.” Hel coughed, laughing when Gabriel shoved her.

There was a moment of laughter as the two scuffled, but once they settled down, Sam was surprised to hear Castiel speaking up. He’d remained quiet so far, as he usually did when they were in groups like this. But he was watching Gabriel now and he asked him “How did the two of you meet? I know the stories of Loki, but I’ve never heard you speak of Spencer's mother.”

“Actually, Mom and Dad met on the weekend before Mom got married.” Spencer said with a smile.

Dean let out an amused snort. “Are you kidding me? Your parents were a weekend fling?”

“Diana was, refreshing.” Gabriel said, lips curving up. His expression turned just a bit softer and warmed with honest affection that seemed to surprise the two Winchesters. Seeing that, he chuckled. “You’ll understand if you ever meet her. She’s an amazingly unique woman. I met her after her last class of the day that Friday and it took only five minutes before we were in an intense debate about Chaucer’s best works.”

“Mom taught fifteenth century literature.” Spencer supplied helpfully.

One of Gabriel’s hands settled on Fen’s back behind Hel’s head, fingers playing lightly with his hair. “She’s a smart lady, and I’ve always loved a woman with brains, and she had spunk. She didn’t take any shit from me and wasn’t afraid to tell me if she disagreed with me. We had a great time that night and we had a great weekend together. Neither one of us ever regretted it. We knew what it was and what it wasn’t. She was getting married come Monday and I wasn’t sticking around. We separated on good terms. Nine months later, I felt the tug on my grace when the little fox over there was born.”

“You didn’t know until then?” Adam asked.

He shook his head. “Nope. But because he came from me, my seed, my grace, I felt his grace when Diana went into labor and I hurried on over, shielded it so no other angel would notice it when he was born. Diana was a happily married woman then, with a husband she loved—I wasn’t gonna ruin that. Despite what you might think of me, I’m not a home wrecker. So I stayed back and just kind of made myself his guardian angel.”

“Wait…” Dean looked back and forth between Gabriel and Spencer. “You didn’t go tell him who you were?”

“I didn’t find out that he was my Dad until I was in college.” Spencer said. “He was just my Ki, my absolute best friend who I saw at night in my dreams. For years, I thought he was just something I made up. This perfect, amazing friend in my dreams who looked out for me and listened to me. Someone who always seemed to know how to make things better and who could help me figure out the crazy things I was doing. He taught me how to control my powers, how to fly, all of that, right there in my dreams. It wasn’t until I was in college that I found out who he really was.”

“We didn’t know about him then, either.” Fen chimed in with that low, rumble of his.

Spencer smiled and took a drink from his glass. One of his hands came up and he toyed lightly with Sam’s fingers, which were dangling down over his chest. “I was, oh, thirteen or fourteen, just starting out in college and so full of questions about everything. I’d asked him before who he was and he told me the same thing he always did, that he was Loki. But that time, I didn’t let it go. I pushed and pushed and, when he didn’t give in, I figured I’d find out on my own. With all the arrogance of a teenager, I found a private spot out in the desert one weekend when I was visiting home and I did a summoning spell that I’d found.”

“You _summoned_ him?” Sam said with a laugh. He could just see that. A curious young Spencer, determined to find answers.

“Yep.” Spencer smiled, drifting back over the memory. “You can probably imagine his surprise when he showed up. You want to know what he did?”

“What?”

“He looked at me with this look of absolute amazement and said ‘Why, you sassy little stick bug’ and then he threw back his head and just laughed. This big, make-you-grin laugh. Then he flew us away to his safe house and he told me everything.”

“I had to.” Gabriel said, drawing eyes back towards him. There was a fond grin on his face and his eyes were warm with his own memories. “You’d proved just how annoyingly persistent you were. What else was I gonna do?”

“From then on I stayed at the dorms, but I went to see him all the time. Spent some of my holidays with him, too.” Spencer said. “I got to know him, and them, and found a whole family I hadn’t even known I’d had.”

Conversation quickly turned towards amusing stories of Spencer's teenage years. Sam listened raptly, laughing along with the rest of them, content in that moment to be right where he was, with friends and family around him and Spencer snuggled right up against his side. The rest of the world sucked right then, but at that moment, in that one place, he was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About three chapters left, folks :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning, to spoil it a little. There’s smut ahead. If you don’t like it, skip ahead to the line break*

 

Once the last of the humans in the house went to bed, Spencer slipped away too, not wanting to spend any time sleeping. Instead, he spent the night hours in DC. He was lucky that the team was home from yet another case at the time. With them all being here, he didn’t have to hunt them down. He went silently and stealthily from one house to the next, reinforcing the wards that he’d put on the houses and people years and years ago, adding whatever extra protection he could before moving on to the next.

He spent the longest at JJ’s house. He couldn’t help it. Hidden from sight, he stood at Henry’s bedside, looking down at his Godson sleeping so peacefully. Henry was the most protected out of all of them. Spencer had laid magic on the child from the moment that he’d first held him, wrapping Henry up in protection after protection, all of it carefully masked to keep it as hidden as possible. Spencer added a little extra grace now, letting it brush against the young boy for that brief moment, and Henry smiled in his sleep. It tugged at Spencer's heart and he had to close his eyes against the ache that swelled inside of him. He’d spent most of the night working and it was now almost dawn, the start of a new day. Today, they’d gather the last of their allies, prepare whatever weapons they could, and tomorrow they’d face the devil. If things ended wrong, he might never again see this little boy.

Spencer couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward and reaching out, brushing a bit of Henry’s hair back from his face. Bending, he pressed a soft kiss against Henry’s forehead. “ _Sleep well, little one._ ” He murmured in Enochian. There was a soft rustle in the air as Spencer flew away.

In the morning, when Henry woke, he’d find a single brown feather, dusted in gold, resting on his nightstand.

Spencer flew straight from Henry’s bedroom to his own. As little as he wanted to sleep, he knew he should at least catch a few hours. His plan was to set his alarm for three hours. That would be enough for his body to function off of. What he hadn’t expected, however, was to find someone already lying in his bed. Spencer stood frozen at his bedside, staring down with surprise at the body lying on top the blankets, clad in a sleep shirt and pants.

He stared for a moment longer before taking a step forward. Then he moved down to kneel beside the bed, putting himself at eye level. He didn’t reach out with a hand, knowing better than that. Instead, he reached out with a wing, letting it brush down the long plains of his back, and he murmured a low “Sam?” It didn’t take much to wake the hunter. Years in their profession left both Sam and Dean capable of waking in an instant if need be. Just the brush of feathers and the murmur of Sam’s name was enough to have sleepy eyes opening. They found him easily and it warmed Spencer's heart when he saw the lazy smile that curved Sam’s lips. “Spencer. You’re back.”

“I am.” Spencer smiled. He lifted a hand and brushed a bit of Sam’s hair back from his face. “Sam…what are you doing here?”

The hunter didn’t look bothered by the question. He closed his eyes at Spencer's touch and sighed happily. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came to find you. When you weren’t here, I figured I’d wait. Guess I fell asleep.” One eye peeked open and there was a hint of humor there. “I hope you don’t mind.”

There were a few different ways that this could go. But Spencer knew how he wanted it to go. He knew what he wanted here and he knew what Sam wanted. Was there any point in denying either of them that? Spencer blew out another breath, blowing out his tension with it, and he gave Sam back a smile that was just as warm as his. “No, I don’t mind. Not at all.”

“Good.”

A wave of the hand changed Spencer's clothes to the plaid pants and oversized shirt he liked to wear to bed. Then, really, it was the easiest thing to rise up and climb into bed. Sam scooted back, making room for him, and Spencer didn’t have any of his usual nerves or shyness. Not now. Not anymore. How could he, when Sam was watching him with that look on his face like this was all he ever wanted in the world? When Spencer slid in under the covers, he was immediately met by Sam’s warm touch, pulling him in even closer. He huffed out a laugh as he was dragged in like some giant teddy bear. “Aren’t you a grabby one?” He murmured teasingly, nose rubbing over Sam’s cheek as they pressed against one another.

He felt the puff of breath over his cheek and ear as Sam laughed as well. “Complaining?”

Spencer smirked and rolled himself until he was stretched out over top of Sam’s body instead of beside it. He planted his hands on either side of Sam’s head and straddled his hips, letting their bodies press together intimately. His eyes sparkled in the dark as he grinned down into the surprised face below his. “Not on your life.”

Those big hands that Spencer had admired time and again closed over Spencer's hips to hold him in place. “Good. Me either.”

“Somehow, I didn’t think you would.” Spencer teased. He bent down and let his lips brush over Sam’s, a soft, teasing move, just a barely there hint of pressure that had Sam’s lips chasing his until Spencer gave him what he wanted, pressing in lightly and then firmer. He took full advantage of Sam’s soft sigh and snaked his tongue past his lips where it was eagerly met by Sam’s.

They lay like that for a while, trading easy tasting, teasing kisses in the dark. The heat that had been growing between them was a nice low burn in their veins. Spencer's grace hummed happily inside of him and he made a pleased little sound when one of Sam’s hands traced up the length of his back, over his shirt, then back down to the bottom to snake beneath the material. The feel of that roughened palm sliding up the smooth skin of his spine had him gasping and arching up even as his hips pressed down. He broke the kiss, looking down heatedly at Sam, and he was met by just as heated a gaze.

“Sam.” Spencer murmured. His breath shuddered out of him and he had to fight to find the words he wanted. Lifting one hand from the bed, he cupped Sam’s cheek, thumb stroking over the apple of his cheek, drinking in the look he was wearing. “Sam. Are you sure? Really sure? If we do this…I don’t share. Ever. So you need to be sure…”

There was no need to clarify what he meant. Sam knew. And there was no hesitation on his face when he smiled and said the only word Spencer needed to hear. “Yes.”

Spencer bent and captured his lips in another kiss. With a bit of will and grace, the bedroom around them vanished, changed. There was a soft rustle as they landed on the new bed. Sam laughed into their kiss and wasn’t that just a delicious feeling? Spencer pulled back, smiling down into a face that was now lit by sunlight from the skylight above. The room around them was simple, not holding much except for the basics. The biggest piece of furniture was the one they were laying on. The large bed was decked out in blankets and sheets of varying shades of red and gold, more opulent than one would expect from Spencer and yet fitting to the beautiful structure of the room itself. Off to the side stood a balcony, the doors shut but the curtains open wide, and there were hills and trees as far as the eye could see. Sam let out another low laugh as he turned twinkling eyes back to Spencer. “Where are we?”

“Tuscany.” Spencer answered, tracing his mouth over the long line of Sam’s jaw. “Only Dad knows about this villa.” He traced his tongue along Sam’s whiskers and smiled at the shiver it caused. Pausing by his ear, he nipped lightly, then soothed it with his tongue. “I didn’t think you’d want a house full of pagans to feel what I’m about to do to you.”

Oh, now that earned him a full bodied shiver from Sam, and he filed that little fact away in the back of his mind. It looked like his hunter liked being talked to.

Hands tugged at his shirt. Spencer let himself sit up just enough for Sam to pull the shirt up and off. There was a moment there where the shy part of Spencer, the part that had always felt awkward and different, tried to reassert itself. But Sam’s eyes flashed hot and bright and his hands were back on Spencer's hips once more, sliding up his back to take hold of the back of his shoulders, and then Sam was lifting himself up to meet Spencer in another kiss, harder and more heated then the last, and Spencer's fears melted away. He gave back as good as he got.

Spencer sucked a mark into Sam’s neck. It earned him a chuckle that was just a bit shaky. “Marking your territory?” Sam teased him hoarsely.

He hummed against the man’s skin. “You,” his tongue traveled over Sam’s clavicle, tasting the sweat there, “are,” a soft nip, right against his shoulder, “ _mine._ ” This time he bit down, hard, on the spot between neck and shoulder, hard enough that he drew blood. Sam bucked up underneath him and let out a throaty moan.

Shuddering out a breath, Sam fought to focus. “I never pegged you for the possessive type.”

“You gave yourself to me, Sam Winchester.” Spencer almost growled the words against the hunter’s skin. He lapped at the mark he made, humming happily when he felt the pleased shiver that ran over Sam. “You gave yourself to me freely. And I. Don’t. Share.”

“Yours.” Sam said happily.

They took their time stripping one another out of their clothes. Dressed for bed, there wasn’t much in the way, but it felt _too much_ to the both of them. Anything that kept them apart was too much. It’d been so long for Spencer since he’d let himself get lost in the body of another person and he’d never gotten lost like this with someone who was there for more than just a physical pleasure. This wasn’t just physical to either one of them. It’d been a long time for Sam, too, since he’d been with someone that mattered like this. Someone that he cared for and who cared for him. Not because they needed one another for anything, or were using each other, not for any tricks or anything like that. This was just them.

Spencer explored the body underneath his, the long lines of it, the dip and curve of muscles. He found scars that the life of a hunter had given him and he memorized them with fingers and lips and tongue. And then Sam was rolling them, laying Spencer out on his back, and it was his turn, long fingers tracing over every inch of exposed skin, all except for the place that Spencer wanted him most, and he couldn’t hold in his whine when Sam’s mouth traced over his hip, brushing so close to the heated length of him, only to move down his leg. “Sam, oh, please Sam, please.” Spencer gasped out, hips lifting up off the bed at the bite to the inside of his thigh.

“You look so gorgeous like this.” The words were a husky rumble against his other leg now. “I’ve wanted this since the start, Spencer. I thought it might go away, but it hasn’t. I just want you more and more. Want to see you come apart for me.”

“Oh, _damn_.” Moaning, Spencer grabbed hold of Sam’s head, fingers threading into his hair, and drew him up into another heated kiss. Then, with the strength he rarely ever showed, he flipped them both over once more until he was again straddling Sam’s waist. He kept Sam caught in the kiss, distracting him while he called up a tube of slick. The click of the cap was missed beneath the sound of their moans as Sam rolled his hips up, rubbing their cocks together in a way that almost made Spencer lose his train of thought. His hand was shaking as he slicked it up and then slid it behind him. The first press of one of his fingers inside of himself and he had to break their kiss to gasp. His face dropped down to bury against Sam’s neck and his whole body shuddered.

One of Sam’s hands was cupping Spencer's thigh while the other ran up over his side, thumb flicking over his nipple when he found it. “Spencer, are you…” The hand on Spencer's thigh slid up and found his fingers, two of them now pushing in and scissoring, stretching him. “Oh, God, you are.”

Spencer nipped sharply against Sam’s neck. “Hey,” he panted, voice just a little rough. “Keep my…my Grandfather out of this…”

“Sorry.” Sam said on a laugh.

One of his fingers pressed up against Spencer's, between them, and it slid in right alongside them. Spencer made a keening sound that he might end up being embarrassed about later. Moving one hand, he pressed it against Sam’s chest, using it to lift himself up so that he could better rock back against their fingers, hips rolling against them. Deliberately he avoided hitting that place deep inside that he knew would feel so good. If he did, this would be over way too fast. As it was his control was already thin. His whole body was shaking and he didn’t care how stretched he was. He slid his fingers out, pulling Sam’s out too, and reached for the condom he’d summoned up with the lube earlier. His hands were shaking too much to open it and he and Sam both laughed over that. Sam stole it and pulled it open, sliding it down over his length. Spencer moaned watching it. Sam was built, more than Spencer was used to, and he couldn’t wait to get it inside of him.

They slicked him up and then Sam was holding himself in place as Spencer positioned his body and, blowing out a breath, sank down onto him.

It took a few tries, pushing down and rising up only to sink back down again, before he was fully seated on him. Shudders ran down Spencer's whole body and he could feel the shake in Sam’s hands that said he wasn’t doing much better. When Spencer was sure he could move without finishing it all right there on the first stroke, he drew in a breath and then started to move.

Their moans echoed around the room as Spencer set a hard and fast pace. Neither one was going to last long this first time around. Spencer had wanted to take his time with this, to savor every moment because they had no idea if they’d be able to do this again, but there was no chance, not this time. This had been building for too long between them. His hips rose and fell quickly and Sam had his feet planted on the bed, hips pushing up to meet each of his downward thrusts. Spencer could feel his grace glowing hotly inside of him and knew it would be showing in his eyes when he looked down.

There was a part of him that he’d never showed off during sex, a part that was far too intimate to show with just anyone. For the first time, he didn’t have to hold it back. As he shifted, finding _that spot_ , that right angle, he threw his head back and let himself go a little, stopped fighting to hide his wings. He knew they were showing when he heard Sam let out a loud moan beneath him.

Sam’s hands slid up over Spencer's back, brushing hesitantly at first and then, when Spencer moaned, firmer, threading through the feathers and tugging. Wings weren’t a naturally sexual thing, but in the right circumstances it could be the same as the pleasure a person got from having their hair pulled. Sam’s fingers tugged in the feathers of his primary wings while his hips thrust up, hard and just right, and it was too much. Spencer had just enough time to slap a hand down over Sam’s eyes before his grace shone out of him as it’d never done during sex before. His orgasm ripped through him and he almost didn’t feel as Sam fell over that ledge with him with a loud cry of Spencer’s name.

They ended up a boneless pile of limbs tangled together in the bed. Sam at least had enough presence of mind to pull off his condom and tie it off, tossing it to the side in what Spencer hoped was the direction of the garbage can. Then they just lay there, Spencer draped over Sam as they both caught their breath. Eventually, Spencer managed to get his brain working enough again to wave a hand and banish the mess that lay between them.

“I think you’ve killed me.” Spencer murmured against Sam’s chest.

He felt the low vibrations of Sam’s chuckle. A hand stroked gently through his right primary wing, smoothing out the feathers that had been ruffled there. “I’ll work on reviving you in a minute.”

Spencer chuckled and pressed a light kiss against sweaty skin. Soon enough, they’d have to head back to the house, back to the real world. But for now, he was going to enjoy laying here.

* * *

Hours later Sam woke to find himself alone in bed. There was no weight lying over or beside him. He could feel a warmth _in_ him, though, sitting right in his chest. He’d only felt Spencer's grace inside of him a few times but he recognized the touch of it now. Not strong, just enough to let him know that he wasn’t alone, even if Spencer wasn’t here in bed. When he opened his eyes, he saw that he wasn’t in that fancy room anymore, but back in the room he’d started, the one he’d slipped into last night in a daring hope of finding the nephilim. That had worked out pretty damn good, if he did say so himself.

He stretched himself out and felt the pleasant ache of a night well spent. He had no idea if Spencer had manipulated time or created some little pocket of it for them—or if he even had that ability like his father did—but he knew it had been early hours of the morning when Spencer had first found him, yet the clock only read nine now, and that time wasn’t adding up. Especially not after round two.

He wasn’t going to question it. He felt good; really damn good. Too good to sit around questioning things that didn’t really matter.

A set of clothes were sitting on top the dresser. Sam unfolded them and found a full clean outfit for him. He pulled on the boxers and then the jeans and t-shirt, leaving off the over shirt for now. He told himself it wasn’t so that he could smugly show off the marks he knew sat on his neck. The others were hidden away where they couldn’t be seen, but they could be felt. Then, once he was clothed, he made his way out of the bedroom, following that spark in his chest that said _Spencer._

He found him easily enough. Spencer was in the kitchen, only with the rest of Team Free Will. At least, the original members. Where anyone else was at, he didn’t know, but in the kitchen were Spencer, Gabriel, Dean, Castiel and Bobby. Sam’s smile grew a little when he saw the way that Dean and Castiel were right up in each other’s space. Not just Castiel invading Dean’s space this time, but Dean right in his as well, leaning in to him. There was a certain glow to his brother’s face that told Sam that he wasn’t the only person to reach out to his angel last night. _About damn time!_

Out of the way of everyone, Sam watched as Spencer hopped up to sit on the counter right near where his father was mixing something in a bowl. Gabriel looked up when Spencer hopped up there and he pulled the towel off his shoulder—and wasn’t that just crazy, the domestic looking archangel—and snapped it in Spencer's direction. “Get your butt off the counter. Who taught you manners, you heathen?”

The boy gave a cheeky grin and didn’t even miss a beat. “You.”

“There truly is no hope for you.” Gabriel deadpanned.

Sam felt his lips quirk up. This—this wasn’t the Spencer that they’d been spending so much time with lately. This was the Spencer that they’d caught glimpses of here and there. The one that peeked out every now and again like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, only to have those very same clouds come back in and cover it once more. Now the sun was shining brightly without a single cloud in sight. Spencer was lit up and animated. There was a wide smile on his face and his hands and body were moving almost nonstop as he started to tell them all something, words tripping and tumbling past his lips with a joyful laugh behind them. Sam couldn’t hear the story from where he stood but that was fine. He leaned against the wall and watched as Spencer said something, throwing his hands up in a way that would’ve sent him toppling down to the ground if it wasn’t for the almost absent hand that Gabriel stuck out, catching his arm and steadying him in a way that spoke of long practice.

Spencer wasn’t the only one who was relaxing. There was a smile on Dean’s face that was more relaxed than had been there for a long time. Bobby was at the counter near Gabriel, grumbling something or other about whatever he was trying to mix, but there was that good humor hidden there for those that knew how to look. Even Castiel looked more settled, his usually blank expression showing the subtle hints of humor—a lightness to his eyes, a slight curve at the corner of his mouth that for him was the equivalent of a full on grin. They all knew what was coming tomorrow and they knew how to make the most of what time they had left. They were spending it here, with family.

Laughter echoed through the kitchen when Spencer said something else and gave another of those wide gestures. This time, no one was near enough to catch him, but Sam swore that _something_ kept the genius from toppling, even if no one else could see it. Gabriel lifted his head from where he was standing by the stove and his eyes unerringly found Sam’s. His smile grew and he winked. What else could Sam do but smile back? This was his family, all gathered here in the kitchen. The people who had come to mean the most to him. He and Dean had made themselves a family here. It was a messy, hodge-podge mix that shouldn’t quite work and yet somehow did.

It wasn’t the ‘normal life’ that he’d always strived for. Nothing about this motley group could be considered normal. Yet, looking at them all, Sam wouldn’t trade a one of them. He smile grew as he finally pushed away from the wall and moved to join them.

Gabriel must’ve been listening in on his thoughts. He had no shame in doing that. When Sam got close, he tipped his head up to look at him and his lips were curved in their customary smirk, eyes twinkling with humor. “Sap.”

“Bite me.” Sam teased back.

“Looks like someone else already did.”

That brought a light flush to Spencer's cheeks but did nothing to diminish his smile that had built at the sight of Sam. His eyes traveled over the visible marks, especially the bite that showed just along the edge of his collar, and Sam caught the hint of heat in Spencer's eyes. For a moment Sam hesitated, not quite sure how Spencer would want to treat all this. Gabriel solved it by bumping Sam’s hip as he went past, shoving him right in Spencer's direction. Everyone laughed as Sam stumbled into him and was caught by long, slender hands. When Sam looked up and found Spencer smiling at him, he did the only thing he could and he fisted Spencer's shirt, drawing him in for the good morning kiss he’d planned on giving him back in the bedroom.

Behind him, Dean made gagging sounds. “Oh, come on, that’s just gross. No one wants to see that.”

There was some sound that told Sam someone must’ve retaliated to that. Gabriel, he was guessing, since it was the archangel who spoke next. “Just cause they’re not afraid of some PDA like some hunter I know…”

“Dude. You should be protesting more! That’s your kid, man.”

“Gee, thanks. I’d completely forgotten that.”

“I just figured you’d be a little touchier about your little boy over there sucking face like that.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve never seen Spencer that comfortable with _anyone_. I feel like I should be throwing a party and giving Sam a giant Thank You cake!”

Their kiss broke and Spencer pressed his forehead to Sam’s as he laughed. “Our family is insane.”

Sam wasn’t going to admit out loud just how much it made his heart jump when Spencer called them ‘our family’. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“All right, break it up, lovebirds.” Bobby grumbled. He thrust a tray out at them that was covered in bags and various ingredients. For the first time Sam realized that it wasn’t _food_ they were mixing up in here but what the ingredients suggested was probably various hex bags. “Take these outside and put em together. The mutt knows how they go together.”

Sam took the tray and stepped back enough for Spencer to hop down off the counter. The smart ass gave Bobby a cheeky grin and an even cheekier salute, snapping out a quick “Sir, yes, sir!” that had Bobby swatting at him and Spencer dodging it with a laugh. Sam followed after him, shaking his head. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that was left feeling good from last night.

They went out to the backyard where Spencer's siblings were gathered once more around Fenrir in his wolf form, with Adam there with them. Sam wondered where the other hunters were before shrugging. He set the tray he held down on the picnic table while Spencer looked over at his siblings and called out “Come help me put these together, guys. We need one for everyone here.”

Sam was just turning to look over at them when suddenly Spencer doubled over, almost dropping down to the ground, and Sam lunged forward to catch him before he could hit. “Spencer!”

The nephilim trembled in his arms before he lifted wide eyes to look up at Sam. “The wards. The wards are gone.”

The back door of the house burst open and Gabriel came racing out, everyone else on his heels. “Everyone grab a weapon!” He shouted out sharply, and Sam knew even as he said it. He could feel it inside of him, deep down inside. “He’s coming!”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll notice lines in here from Hammer of the Gods, because I love the hell out of that speech.

“How the hell did they break down the wards?” Spencer cursed as he pushed himself up from Sam’s arms.

“I don’t know!” Gabriel fired back. He moved down the massive backyard, and Spencer was grateful for the place his father had chosen. It was far away from other people; only trees and ground would be damaged in this fight.

Spencer had expected for demons to come. He’d expected, well, he wasn’t sure what. Demons, hellhounds, anything of the like. What he hadn’t expected was to see Lucifer come walking calmly out of the trees—alone. He stopped just a few feet out of the tree line and waited there with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. The whole yard was tense, everyone watching and waiting. Spencer stood at Sam’s side, felt as Fenrir moved up beside him as well, and tried not to reach out to grab at his father as Gabriel strode forward. The two facing off was one of the last things that Spencer wanted to happen. He didn’t want to see them fight. Didn’t want to see what they might do to one another.

“Lucy, so good to see you.” Gabriel called out as he got close. He stopped a few feet away from his brother and spread his hands out, smirking. “Nice of you to join the party. We were just getting ready to make dinner. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve set a place for you!”

Lucifer’s smile was just a hair too cold to be real. “I got the distinct feeling I wasn’t invited. Wards, Gabriel?”

“Not like they were effective.” Gabriel said with a shrug.

“Nothing’s impenetrable when you know the right people.” Pulling his hands from his pockets, Lucifer spread them wide in a gesture of peace and welcome that no one was stupid enough to believe. “Come now, brother. What are you doing here? You’re not a fighter. You never were. Don’t do this to yourself. Why fight against me? Why not stand with me, at my side?”

A low scoff sounded from Gabriel. “I love you, Lu, and you’re my brother, but you’re a great big bag of dicks. You’re like a human child, pitching a fit cause you think Daddy was mean to you.”

“Excuse me?” The warmth melted away under a sheet of ice.

“Play the victim all you want. But you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best. More than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home and you couldn't handle it. So this is all just one big temper tantrum. Time to grow up.”

“Gabriel, if you're doing this for Michael...” Lucifer said slowly.

“I’m not doing this for him.” Gabriel cut in. “And I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for them. For humans, Lucy. For _family_.”

“ _I_ am your family.”

“And so are they.”

Lucifer’s face twisted into a sneer, disgust written plainly and almost dripping from his words. “Who, _them_?” He gestured with one hand to the group behind Gabriel that still stood silently watching, waiting. Spencer twitched a little at the gesture. He felt Hel and Jor shift, moving to stand with Spencer and Fen. It only made Lucifer’s sneer grow. “You’d fight for them, these flawed little abominations?”

For the first time, Gabriel truly sounded angry, his voice deepening and ringing with a fury that Spencer had never heard there before. “Watch your mouth when you talk about my kids.”

“Your kids…” Lucifer’s eyes ran over Fen, Jor, Hel, and then to Spencer, and Spencer had to fight not to step back from that gaze, a gaze he’d come to know all too well in his dreams lately. Realization flashed deep in those bright orbs. “Of course. Of course he’s yours.” Lifting his hands, he clapped slowly, lips curving up into a smile. “Well played, nephew. Well played indeed. You should be proud of your abomination, brother. He never once gave up your identity, nor agreed to join me. He’s strong. Foolish, but strong.”

If Gabriel had any reaction to the news that Lucifer and Spencer had been talking, he didn’t show it. The others in the group did and Spencer avoided looking at them as their eyes all turned towards him. But Gabriel didn’t even turn around. “I’m proud of all my kids.”

“And you’re willing to die for them? For all of these cockroaches here?”

“Because Dad was right.” Gabriel told him. “They are better than us.”

“They are broken. Flawed! Abortions.”

“Damn right they're flawed. But a lot of them try. To do better, to forgive. And you should see the Spearmint Rhino!” There was a collective snort at that, a few headshakes for the Trickster who couldn’t resist the sarcasm or humor in anything. Then Gabriel turned serious once more. His blade slid from his sleeve, dropping down into his hand in an open threat. “I've been riding the pine a long time. But I'm in the game now, and I'm not on your side, or Michael's. I'm on theirs.”

“Brother, don't make me do this.” Lucifer spoke softly in a voice that Spencer could hear was tinged in honest regret.

Gabriel flashed him a sad smile. “No one makes us do anything.”

Even as Gabriel moved forward, the world around them seemed to suddenly erupt, demons pouring out of everywhere, an entire army of them, and holy shit, Spencer had never seen so many in one place before. There was no time to be afraid. No time to wonder and worry. Spencer waved his hand and called up the knife his father had given him long ago. He shot Sam one last, heated look, wishing with everything in him that he could send the man away, that he could send any of his family away. “Be safe.” It was all he had time to say. There wasn’t even time left for one last kiss before the demons were on them.

There was no holding back in this fight. Part of Spencer grieved to know that there were going to be many human casualties in this. They couldn’t afford to try and save all the poor souls that were trapped inside, being possessed by these demons. For every demon they took down today, a person died, and Spencer grieved for it inside. He grieved as he slashed out with his knife, taking out one demon and then the next. Beside him, he heard Fenrir’s snarl as the great wolf leapt and took down a hellhound. Hel was on his other side in a deadly dance with a few demons stupid enough to take her on. Somewhere nearby, he heard the deadly hiss of his other brother, the shouts of the hunters, and saw a flash of light that was Castiel, he knew.

There was a shout up ahead and Spencer's head snapped up from the demon he’d just stabbed. His eyes landed on a scene just ahead and he moved there with just a thought, landing just in time to jam his knife right into the demon’s back only seconds before it would’ve sliced through Jo, who was lying on the ground. Spencer shoved the dead demon off to the side and reached down to Jo, grabbing her hand and yanking her to her feet. She grinned at him, shoving messy hair back from his face. “Thanks!”

Spencer grinned back and the two of them threw themselves back into the fight.

Ahead of the battle, the two archangels fought, circling one another, cut off in a circle of their own. The demons didn’t penetrate the space around them. No one wanted to get in the way as the two came together and fell apart with crashes that shook the ground beneath them. Spencer prayed inside when he saw his father fall back, narrowly avoiding a slice from Lucifer’s blade.

As Spencer turned to slice another demon, he saw flames nearby and almost leapt back. Kali strode past, burning down the demons in her path. The pagans had arrived. Them, Spencer had known to expect. He knew his father had been talking to them to try and bring them over to their side for this, so it wasn’t any real surprise to see some of them showing up. But it was the arrival of the angels that truly surprised him. He hadn’t realized that his father and Castiel had managed to recruit other angels to their side. But they joined in, tearing into the horde of demons, wings flashing in the air and blades slicing.

Another demon leapt forward and Spencer struck out with his blade, taking him down. He twisted to take out the next and saw caught a glimpse of his father once more. Horror gripped Spencer when he saw his father catch a blow that sent him flying back into the middle of the crowd of demons. His horror grew when he saw the body that moved to take on Lucifer next—Sam. _Sam._ What the hell was he doing? Spencer shoved his way through the crowd to where he’d seen his father land and hoped he could get him up in time, before Sam did something stupid.

CXCX

Sam didn’t know how he’d ended up here, facing off against Lucifer. All he knew was that he’d seen Gabriel go flying and he was the only one close enough to stop Lucifer from going after him.  Before he could think it through he’d found himself here in front of him with the charmed knife that Spencer had made for him yesterday while prepping weapons. Lucifer seemed surprised to see him there, and then pleased. Very pleased. “Samuel.”

“Lucifer.”

“So good to see you, Sam.”

Bracing himself, Sam moved, turning his back towards the trees instead of the fight, not trusting a demon not to creep up behind him. “I can’t exactly say the same.”

Humor danced in his eyes as he took in Sam’s defensive stance. “Really, Sam? You want to fight _me_?” He shook his head, that smile still curving his lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then stop this.” Sam said. “Stop this. None of this has to happen.”

The cry of hellhounds rang loudly through the air.

Power hit Sam, flinging him back, sending him flying into a tree. His knife clattered uselessly to the ground. With a small, almost sad looking smile, Lucifer made his way forward, his eyes locked on Sam. “You cannot win, Samuel.” Lucifer told him. “Look around you. Your friends and allies are dying. Is this what you want? Say yes to me, and it can all be done. Just say Yes.”

As much as Sam hated it, Lucifer was right and they both knew it. All around him, his friends and allies were dying. Even now, Sam saw as Rufus went flying, his body landing limp on the ground, not moving. Gabriel still hadn’t completely risen from where Lucifer had tossed him, and even if he did, how much longer could he hold out against his brother? It had never been fair to ask him to fight against a big brother that was most likely stronger than him. Stronger, and more willing to kill. As hard as they fought, they were losing. For every demon that they fought, another one came up, swarming from who knew where. They couldn’t keep it up like this. With one Yes, it could all be over. Sam looked at the Devil and he did the only thing that he could think of. Closing his eyes, he prayed to the only person he could, just one single word. _Yes_.

CXCX

Spencer was kneeling by his father when the prayer came in. He felt it echo through him, straight down to his bones, to his grace and his soul, resonating in a way nothing else had before. His eyes shot up from Gabriel and flashed over to where his charge stood pinned against a tree. _Yes_ , the word echoed in him again, full of conviction and trust, and he had one moment to look down at his father, to let his apology and love fill his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing a hand to Gabriel’s chest. He saw Gabriel’s eyes shoot up to him, glowing golden, and the horrified look there was almost too much to bear. “I love you.” With those final words, Spencer spread his arms and threw his head back, his scream echoing in the afternoon air as he let go of every single one of the walls he’d ever put up inside him, tearing down the cage that kept his grace smothered.

Then he gathered all his energy and ripped his grace and soul from his body.

CXCX

The scream tore loud and clear through the air, echoing with the edge of an angel’s true voice that no one had ever heard from the nephilim before. For one brief moment the battle seemed frozen as if someone had hit the pause button on it all. Only one cry rose up around them, the sharp warning from Gabriel that reached the humans all around. “Shut your eyes!”

The light of Spencer’s grace lit up the whole area, taking out the demons around him, blasting others back further still.

The light brightened and flared, a blinding sun that flashed there and gone again, leaving behind a stunned silence in its wake. On one end of the yard, an empty vessel dropped down to the ground, caught by gentle hands. On the other end, a vessel rose. Golden light morphed Sam Winchester’s eyes as they locked on the stunned and furious face of Lucifer. Four great wings sprouted from his back and the demons that had surrounded the duo fell back in fear. Sam’s body shifted and his voice when he spoke rang with an authority that had never been there before. “This is done, Uncle. It is over.”

Fury settled over the face of the Morningstar. “I will destroy you for taking what is mine.”

“He was never yours.” Reaching into his coat, Sam drew a sword, the sight of which had the other angels gasping. It was a sword that hadn’t been seen in a long time—since the time of the nephilim. He curled his hands around the hilt and slid into an offensive posture. Then, with a cry, he struck, and the sound of swords clashing filled the air.

The demons struck anew as their master struck, drawing strength and courage from him, and the allies of Team Free Will fought on, all of them fighting and yet trying to watch, to see as two swords clashed in the air, as power danced and fizzed around them and the very earth seemed to tremble. The fight between Michael and Lucifer had been predicted to destroy the earth. The fight between Lucifer and a Nephilim was threatening to do close to the same.

CXCX

It was a different experience fighting in a body that wasn’t his. The limbs were longer, heavier, nothing like his slender frame. Yet the more he moved, the easier it became. Spencer ran his body through the forms that his father had once taught him and he blessed every one of those moments. They were the only thing keeping him alive now. If he had been any less skilled, he would’ve been dead already. As it was, it was hard enough to hold out, especially when a part of Spencer was working so hard to keep Sam back, to keep him safe inside of his own mind, shut away where he would be unharmed by the light of Spencer's grace and soul inside of him.

There was only so long he was going to be able to hold out. Only so long the _earth_ would be able to hold out. Spencer could feel the damage they were causing already. The earthquake that was shaking the nearby town. The storm that was drawing in overhead, full of thunder and lightning and a rain that could very well flood this place. This had to end—now. Spencer parried a blow and used the force to leap backwards. With one hand he waved and called to what he needed, drawing it from where it hid in his father’s pocket—the Horsemen’s rings. Lucifer’s eyes lit as he saw what Spencer held. The nephilim’s voice echoed in the air as he chanted the words before throwing the rings off to the side. He could hear the _rip_ as the fabric of the world tore in this one place and opened up to a dark, gaping hole that was the express ride down to the cage.

He could see Lucifer moving, preparing to run, preparing to flee, and they couldn’t let that happen. _We have to stop him!_ Sam shouted inside their head.

Spencer leapt, sword out, and met his uncle with another round of blows, trying with everything he had to herd him, to put him in the direction of that great sucking hole in the ground. But Lucifer was ancient. He had been around since before time began and no barely trained _infant_ stood a real chance against him. Spencer had been lucky so far to hold his own the way that he had. When Lucifer’s blade got around his guard and cut across his side, he knew his luck wasn’t going to hold out. _I don’t know if I can stop him_ Spencer told Sam achingly. _Not like this._

_You know what we have to do,_ Sam told him. _Spencer, you know. It’s what we talked about. We planned for this._

_I didn’t want it to come to this_

_I know._ And Sam did. They had talked about this, quietly and away from the others, preparing for what they would have to do here. Building the contingency plan they’d both never wanted to have to implement. _Do it, Spencer. Do it now, before he gets away._

There was no more time for apologies. No more time to talk this through. Spencer twisted his sword in a move that he knew left him wide open, yet provided him with all the opening he needed. Even as Lucifer’s sword drove towards him, Spencer twisted and took the blow, letting the blade slide into his leg instead of sinking into the soft part of his belly, and it gave him just enough time to slam forward. By the time Lucifer realized what he was doing, it was too late. Their bodies had connected and they were soaring, tumbling back through the air, bodies and limbs tangled together. Determination, Spencer’s and Sam’s both, gave them the courage necessary. With one final breath, they flung themselves into the dark and dragged Lucifer down with them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me yet!
> 
> Remember, one more chapter to go!


	19. Chapter 19

The fall seemed to go on forever. There was the dark around them and the light beside them. Spencer felt the agony and the fear as Lucifer screamed beside him and Sam panicked inside him. They plummeted and Spencer wrapped his wings tight around Sam’s body, sheltering them as best as he could while they fell faster and faster. The dark broke and the heat flared around them until Spencer swore his feathers would burn from it all. Then, just when he thought they could fall no more, that they’d never see the end, they were suddenly there, hitting the ground with enough force to send him thumping and rolling a good fifty feet. Spencer clutched his wings together even tighter and tried not to cry out at the impact.

The light of the Morningstar was gone. Spencer pushed up to his feet and loosened his wings to freely look around him. What he saw was enough to have him sucking in a breath he no longer truly needed.

_What is that?_ Sam’s voice whispered in horror and awe.

“The cage.” Spencer murmured, transfixed on the sight in front of him. “It’s the cage.”

And they were standing on the outside. Inside, the light of Lucifer’s grace glowed brightly with his rage.

The cage was built down in the depths of Hell with the strength to contain one of the most powerful archangels.

It was never meant to hold a nephilim.

_How_? Sam whispered to him. _How are we here? How are we not in there with him?_

“The cage was meant to hold an archangel, Sam. If it had been just you and Lucifer, the power in it would’ve been enough to hold you too, because you’re just a human. But I’m neither. Think about it.”

He could actually _feel_ as Sam drew down in thought. This sharing space thing was so strange, so stunningly intimate, and Spencer had to fight to keep them separate, fight to keep their souls from twining too close together. There were risks here that weren’t there with a regular angel possession. He wasn’t simply made of grace like most angels. He had a soul of his own. And his grace and soul together were immensely powerful now that he’d let go of the restraints he’d always kept on himself. How powerful, he had no idea, but a part of him whispered that he was more angel than human now.

_It’s like when we went after Crowley. The angel wards didn’t keep you out._ Sam finally said. _You told us wards are specific. They’re made for angels, and you’re only part angel._

Spencer smiled slightly. “Exactly. Part angel, part human, a little extra human, and a dash of something else. What we are right now isn’t something the cage was ever made to hold.”

_So that means we’re….we’re in Hell? Aren’t we just as trapped? What do we do now?_

This close to the cage, the air was cool, because Spencer knew that Lucifer ran cold, but he knew that much further away and he would feel that heat that he’d felt while falling. The heat so strong it threatened to burn his feathers. Yet he turned towards it now, looked out over what he knew was ahead of them. “Now? Now, we hope to Grandfather that my sister didn’t make up all those old stories she used to tell me.” Spencer's wings spread wide and his grace pulsed bright in the darkness. “Hold tight, Sam!” With one last breath, he took off, heading straight into Hell.

CXCX

Dean had never realized just how quiet the impala could be until he was forced to drive it without his brother by his side. Not even his years alone while Sam had been at Stanford and John had been doing his own hunts had Dean ever felt the quiet quite so keenly. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d known that Sam was somewhere. He was alive and happy. Even though Dean hadn’t been happy, he’d known Sam was. He’d known Sam was _alive_. Now…now there was nothing. Just this giant empty space where his brother should be and _wasn’t_. Dean couldn’t bring himself to fill it with anything else. Not even Castiel. It wasn’t right. The spot was Sam’s. There was a part of him that would always hope that his brother would fill it again.

Almost a month had gone by since that day. The day that the apocalypse had ended. The day Dean lost his brother, and someone who had come to be one hell of a friend.

He’d spent the first two weeks absolutely furious. With Sam, with Spencer, with Lucifer, with Gabriel and Castiel, even. He’d been furious with everyone. How the hell had something like this happened? They’d all agreed that Sam wasn’t going to do a damn swan dive! But the little bastard had said yes to Spencer, to _Spencer,_ and then Spencer had grabbed Lucifer and thrown them all down into the hole. Dean wanted so badly to blame Spencer for all of it. And he would’ve been able to, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew his brother. Sam wouldn’t have yes to Spencer if it hadn’t been something the two of them had planned. And if they’d planned it, that had to mean that Sam had known what might happen.

He wasn’t the only one that was grieving. Dean doubted he’d ever forget the absolute agony on Gabriel’s face when that portal had closed. Every human that had been there that day had been lucky that Castiel had managed to warn them to cover their eyes in enough time. Gabriel had angeled out and left behind an empty, lifeless vessel, lying there on the ground beside Spencer's.

It was Castiel who gathered up the vessels. Castiel who took them to Bobby’s place, where they were safely put into the panic room. And it was Castiel who kept what was left of their group together when it seemed like they would all fall apart, though his expression was one of grief that Dean never again wanted to see there. He’d lost his nephew, here, as well as a friend. Yet he continued on, doing what had to be done. Healing those who were injured and taking them home. He also went with the other angels to Heaven and kept Dean and Bobby updated on what was happening up there. Apparently things were changing up there. Michael wasn’t trying to restart things as they’d been afraid he might. “He’s trying to fix things.” Castiel told them on one visit, almost a week after everything. “I believe he has, how do you put it? Seen the light. He is taking charge of Heaven, trying to repair the damage done.”

“Too bad he couldn’t have pulled his head outta his ass a little sooner.” Bobby had snapped. Then he’d gone back to his desk and back to the bottle. Sam and Spencer both had been important to him and losing them was a hard blow for the older hunter.

Two weeks after ‘It’, almost to the day, light flooded the panic room and the whole house shook. Castiel had kept off the angel warding in the panic room and it looked like it was for good reason. Moments after the lights settled, Bobby and Dean raced into the house to find Gabriel coming up from the basement, and Castiel appearing in the living room. The archangel looked weary beyond believe, but there was something on his face, something in his eyes, that had Dean frozen. When Gabriel stumbled, Castiel was there to catch him, helping to hold him up. Gabriel actually leaned in to the embrace and let his younger brother hold him up. His eyes, though, sought out Dean. “They aren’t there.” His lips curved up in an exhausted smile. “Luci’s in the cage, but they aren’t. They aren’t there.” And then he promptly passed out.

A full day passed before Gabriel woke once more. He’d exhausted himself in his flight down into Hell and his grace needed time to recover. After all that sleep, he sat at Bobby’s table and ate the food that Dean made for him and told them about what he’d been doing. “I flew down to the cage first, to see what I could see.” The look he’d given them then dared them to argue with him, to tell him how stupid a risk it was, but no one said anything and he’d just continued on. “It took a while to get there and then longer still to really look around. My brother was a bit…pissed. He finally told me that they weren’t in there with him. The cage is made to contain an angel. It’s extremely powerful, yes, but it’s made to hold an angel. An we’ve all seen what angel wards do for Spencer.”

“They weaken him, but they don’t hold him.” Dean said.

“Righto, bucko.” There was light in Gabriel’s eyes, light and hope. “That was Lucifer’s best guess, and mine too. That prison wasn’t ever made to hold something like him. So, I started looking around. I didn’t find them, but there’s only so long I could be down there. I had to come back up.”

“So you just left em down there in hell?” Dean shouted.

Even with his grace weakened, Gabriel was still dangerous and it showed in the flash in his eyes and the steel in his voice. “Watch your tone with me, boy. I called in a few favors. We’ll find them.”

That had been two weeks ago, though. Four weeks since the two had gone down to hell. In hell-time, the best as Dean could figure it, that was around ten years. Ten years that his little brother was down in freaking _hell_. He knew that angels could put the soul of the vessel they inhabited to sleep. Castiel had told him that. As guilty as it made him feel, he hoped Spencer was doing that. He _prayed_ Spencer was doing that. Every day, so many times, he found himself saying prayers that he hadn’t ever pictured himself saying. He prayed to the nephilim in the hopes that they’d somehow reach him even down in the pit. He prayed for them to be strong, to hold on, to come back. Prayed to let them know that they were still looking, that Gabriel was blackmailing Crowley into looking. Prayed just to give them something because maybe that little moment of contact, if it could be heard, would help them to stay strong.

Gabriel was sort-of in hiding at the moment. Really, most of his attention was focused on trying to find his son, but Castiel told them that Heaven was up in arms about the existence of a nephilim. “When Spencer ripped out of his body, he sent up a beacon that echoed through Heaven.” Castiel told him. “He announced his presence to everyone.” And from the sounds of it, no one was that happy about it.

It was all just one giant shit storm and Dean couldn’t bring himself to give a damn about any of it. He stayed at Bobby’s, worked on baby, and did the only thing that both Gabriel and Castiel had told him he could do—he waited. It wasn’t something he did easily or well but it was all he could do.

One month after the boys fell into the hole, his waiting paid off.

He was out in the yard working on baby when a voice brought him snapping up from under the hood.

“Hey there, Winchester.”

CXCX

Spencer supposed he had to be grateful to his sister for dropping him off outside of Singer Salvage. Sure, it would’ve been a bit more appreciated if she could’ve taken him straight there, but he’d take what he could get. Her escorting him out at all had been a blessing. One that wouldn’t have been necessary if Spencer wasn’t so utterly exhausted. Most of his energy was bound up in keeping that thin barrier between himself and Sam. Keeping just enough up to make sure that they stayed separate people in here. The strain was starting to show on him. All that time spent making their way to Hel hadn’t helped, either. Spencer's grace was weak and it showed in the body he wore as he stumbled his way into the salvage yard.

His plans had been to go to Bobby, to have the hunter call in for help. Hel hadn’t been able to reach their father and that alone was worrisome—no, terrifying. What he hadn’t planned on was finding Dean standing outside working away on his baby.

“Hey there, Winchester.”

The way that Dean shot out from underneath the hood would’ve been enough to set Spencer laughing any other day. Now, all he could manage was a weak smile that he knew came out slightly strained around the edges. Behind him, hidden from view, his wings drooped.

The cautious hope that bloomed in Dean’s eyes tugged at both Sam and Spencer. Sam was awake, and Spencer wished he could give him control for this moment. He didn’t dare, though. He didn’t want to risk losing any control right now.

“Sammy?” Dean whispered, taking one hesitant step forward.

Spencer's smile warmed just a little more. “He’s still in here.” He reassured him. “He says to tell you that, and I quote, you look like shit, jerk.”

A weak, raspy laugh tore from Dean. “Bite me, bitch.” Then his smile faltered and he took another step forward. Still so hesitant, unsure. “Is that…is it really you? It’s really you two?”

“It’s really us.” Spencer said softly.

The smile that lit up Dean’s face was almost blindingly bright. Then, to Spencer's complete surprise, the man closed that last bit of distance and caught him up close and tight in a hug. Spencer responded instinctively. He closed his arms around the older hunter and just clung to him for a moment. The hug would be for Sam, he knew, and he could feel Sam’s happiness at the embrace, at simply seeing Dean again.

When they broke apart, Dean held the back of Sam’s neck for a moment, grinning at him. Then he drew his hand around and patted Sam’s cheek before reaching to grab his shoulder. “C’mon. There are some people inside who are gonna flip their shit.”

The wards kept Spencer from noticing any other presence until he stepped through the front door. The minute he did, his whole body almost slumped in relief. They’d improved their wards while he was gone. But now that he was inside them, he recognized the presence that he hadn’t been able to feel before. The one he knew he’d recognize anywhere. Inside, he felt an echo of his own relief at finding him alive.

Spencer only had one brief moment to take in the room, to see Gabriel, Castiel, Adam and Bobby sitting around the table, and to wonder why they were all in here while Dean had been outside, and then Spencer found himself being pulled into a pair of arms he would know anywhere, no matter what body he was in. Arms and wings and grace, Gabriel wrapped around his youngest son, holding him close, his head buried in against Spencer's chest, which was strange enough to make them both laugh. “This is about ten different kinds of wrong here.” Gabriel said, looking up at him and laughing.

That made Sam snicker in their shared headspace and Spencer's lips curved up. In response, Gabriel’s grin grew brighter. He jabbed one finger in the center of Spencer's chest and didn’t even bother pretending to glare. “Oh be quiet, the both of you. Don’t think I can’t hear you laughing in there, Samarino.”

The two broke apart and Spencer looked across the room to Bobby, Adam and Castiel. Bobby was outright smiling, his happiness lighting him up, giving extra weight to his words when he said “It’s damn good to see you boys.”

Castiel smiled softly at him, wings lifted up and out in a sign that showed his happiness clearer than words. Beside him, Adam was grinning too.

“All right, I gotta know—what happened?” Adam asked.

Gabriel cut him off before he could even try to answer that. “Why don’t we take care of some important things first?” He looked up at Spencer and there was grief and love both in his eyes. “Your body is down in the panic room. I imagine Sam’s ready to have his own body back.”

CXCX

Everybody else stayed upstairs while Spencer went down to the panic room. It was safer for the humans to stay back from the light show that was about to happen and there was no telling how much of what was about to happen would be able to be hidden by whatever wards were on Bobby’s property, so the two angels were up there prepared to do what needed to be done to keep their family safe. Gabriel had hidden his thoughts well, but Spencer had caught an edge in his words, a warning that things might not be as peaceful as they’d hoped. It was Spencer's fears, what he’d known was going to happen from the moment he’d realized that he was going to have to reveal who he was. The minute he’d built this backup plan, he’d known that he was putting himself at great risk. Not just because he’d had no way of knowing if pulling out grace and soul was something he could even survive, but because he’d known it would announce his presence to the Host.

_We’ll keep you safe._ Sam tried to soothe him. _We won’t let them have you. You’re ours._

It wasn’t that simple, they both knew that. But Spencer let him hold that hope for now.

They found Spencer's body lying downstairs just like Gabriel had said they would. It was the strangest sensation to walk up to the cot there and look down at what was essentially an empty vessel. _His_ empty vessel. Spencer looked down at his body and just sort of took it in. He’d never seen himself fully from the outside this way. One thought came to him and he couldn’t quite keep in his snort. “No wonder everyone always gets so protective over me.” He told Sam, tilting his head a little. “I’m _small_.”

Sam’s laughter was warm and bright inside of him.

What he was about to do was just as risky as what he’d done the first time. There was no telling if his grace and soul would easily slide back into the empty body that lay there.

Spencer lowered himself to his knees by the cot, right near his body’s head. Then he drew in a breath he didn’t need and gave one last testing stretch of his wings. “Hold on, Sam.” He murmured. Bracing one hand against his body’s chest, he leaned forward, bracing against the cot, and then he carefully began to untangle himself from Sam. Whether this would work or not for him, he was going to make damn sure that nothing happened to Sam in this. Little by little, bit by bit, he gathered himself away from Sam, and then he threw his head back and the whole room filled with white.

Sinking back into his body was so much easier than he’d thought it’d be. Spencer sank back into it and it was perfect, it was coming home.

After the time spent inside of Sam’s body, it took a second to adjust to being in his own once more, to remember how to open up his eyes. The first thing he saw when he did was Sam’s face, right over his, watching him with worry and other emotions that had Spencer's heart pounding in his chest. His lips curved up—his own lips on his own body!—and he couldn’t help but let out a joyous, breathy sort of laugh. “It worked.”

Sam’s smile grew wider. “It worked.”

Not giving himself any time to think about it, Spencer almost launched up off the cot, catching Sam’s face with his hands and yanking him in for the kiss he’d been wanting to give him for a while now. Sam didn’t even startle at it. Hands braced on the bed, he poured himself into it, giving just as good as he got. They only broke when Sam needed to breathe. Even then, Spencer didn’t let go of his face. He held him there and stared up into eyes that had come to mean so damn much to him. There was a look there in them that held him still, stole the words right out of his throat. Nuzzling in against his palm, Sam held his stare, making sure that he was looking right at Spencer when he spoke. “I’ve been waiting to be able to look at you to say this. I knew during our night together, but I was afraid to say the words. I’m not afraid to say it now. I love you, Spencer. And I don’t care what happens once we leave this room. I don’t care what the angels or Heaven or anyone has to say. I’m not letting you go, you understand me?”

Joy burst to life inside of Spencer. His grace sang with it. It reached out to Sam and Spencer followed. He drew Sam in for another kiss and wrapped around the man, arms and wings and grace, and held him tight. “I love you too.” He murmured against Sam’s lips. “Grandfather above, I do.”

The two could’ve gone on and on like that and happily lost themselves in one another if it hadn’t been for the sudden strong presence of angels coming towards the house that echoed through Spencer. He yanked himself back from Sam and his eyes went wide. An uncharacteristic curse slipped free. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Angels.”

Sam had to brace Spencer for a second as the nephilim pushed up from the cot. It only took a few steps for him to get used to feel of his body again, though. Then he was tearing out of the panic room and up the stairs with Sam hot on his heels.

Gabriel and Castiel were standing outside, both of them braced for any sort of trouble and very obviously protecting the humans that were refusing to wait safely inside. What Spencer hadn’t expected to find was one single angel standing there in front of them in a body that Spencer didn’t recognize. Spencer reached out to his father and the answers he got made things make a lot more sense even as they made him tense up even more. The vessel was a created one, just as Gabriel’s had been crafted just for him. There was no soul hiding inside the tall, dark haired man that stood there looking so much like a general addressing his troops. But the grace inside—the grace was _Michael._ That was Michael standing there in the vessel his younger brother had helped to make for him, something that was far more complicated than one would think, and a skill that Gabriel was only capable of because of the pagan magic that had become a part of him during his time hiding.

“Mikey.” Gabriel drawled out, taking just a small step forward so that he was in front of Castiel, in front of everyone, a move that spoke clearer than words. “We weren’t expecting any visitors. If you wanted to talk, you could’ve called.”

It was so reminiscent of another talk, another fight, that it had Spencer's stomach clenching. He made as if to go forward to his father’s side and found himself stopped by not just Sam’s hand on his arm, but Dean as well, the older Winchester sidestepping and blocking him from going forward. They were protecting him. Shielding _him_. That warmed him deep inside at the same time it made him want to shake his head.

Michael didn’t back down from Gabriel’s posturing. He smiled at him and there was something in that look that had Spencer relaxing just the slightest bit. It was a look he recognized; one that he’d seen on Dean’s face when he looked at Sam, or on Fenrir’s face when he looked at Spencer or Jor or Hel. That was the look of an amused, indulgent big brother to his younger sibling. There was love, amusement, and that fond sort of exasperation that only big brothers were capable of. There was just a hint of sorrow at the edges of it, too, like it hurt him to see how defensive Gabriel felt in his presence. There were so many layers in the interactions between them then and Spencer wanted nothing more than to be at his father’s side to support him through this.

“I’m not here for trouble, little brother.” Michael said to him, and there was an open honesty in his words.

To Spencer's surprise, it was Castiel who said “Then why are you here, brother?” His voice was firm and steady and Spencer knew enough of Heaven to know that someone of Castiel’s ‘rank’ shouldn’t even think of speaking to an archangel like that, least of all _Michael._

But Michael didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. The look he gave Castiel was kind of fond. “Relax, Castiel. I’m here in peace.” He turned back to Gabriel and his smile warmed again. “All of Heaven felt your son’s return. I…came to meet my nephew.”

Sam immediately tried to draw Spencer back even more and Dean was shifting so that he was standing more in front of Spencer. The message was clear; they would protect him, no matter what.

It was easy for him to break free and slip around them. He could’ve flown forward but chose instead to slip his arm from Sam’s grip, after a quick reassuring squeeze to the hunter’s hand, and then move around Dean. He moved casually right up to his father’s side. There was no fear in him as he took up a stand beside Gabriel. Respect, yes, and a sense of awe that he couldn’t quite banish, but no fear. There was nothing in Michael that suggested any sort of threat. If anything, Spencer got an entirely different impression, and his father had always taught him to trust those instincts. He trusted them now as he looked at the archangel. Spencer drew his wings in, tucking them close in a pose that was both submissive and respectful, a formal way to introduce himself to someone above him, and he bowed his head slightly. “ _It’s a pleasure to meet you, Uncle. I’ve heard many wonderful things about you. I’m glad to finally be able to meet you._ ” The words slipped from him in Enochian, low and warm and as respectful as he could make them.

There was a moment of quiet and then Michael surprised them all by chuckling. “Are you sure he’s yours, brother? I don’t think you’ve ever been that polite.”

“He gets it from his mother.” Gabriel said easily. He’d almost visibly relaxed at Spencer's side.

Warmth twinkled in Michael’s eyes when they turned back to Spencer. “The pleasure’s all mine, Spencer. I’ve heard plenty about you, too. You’ve made quite the reputation for yourself with what you did to my brother.” The way he said that made it sound like something good, something he should be proud of.

A hint of color filled Spencer's cheeks and his wings ruffled in his embarrassment. Dropping his gaze, he shrugged one shoulder an shifted uncomfortably. “I couldn’t have done it without Sam.”

“Polite and modest? Your mother must be a great woman, indeed.”

Spencer couldn’t stop the small flash in his eyes, or how his chin lifted just the slightest bit. A part of him bristled at what he perceived as an insult against his father. “Both of my parents are great. They both taught me well.”

Laughter lit Michael’s eyes and in that moment Spencer could really see the resemblance between the brothers. Michael’s humor wasn’t right out there for everyone to see the way that Gabriel’s was, but it was there. He slid his amused gaze over to Gabriel. “Now I can see it. He’s definitely yours.”

Smirking, Gabriel leaned in against Spencer's side.

Michael looked up towards the sky, hearing something that the rest of them did not, and then his gaze went back to them once more. “I can’t stay, not now. I just wanted to come down and meet the nephew that I’d been hearing so much about, and to make sure everyone was all right.” He tilted his head and caught Spencer's gaze. “I’d like to talk with you again, if that’s all right with you. I’d like the chance to get to know my brother’s children.”

“I’d like that.” Spencer said softly.

They all stood there for a long moment after Michael vanished. Spencer couldn’t quite believe it. He wasn’t the only one, either. “So, what the hell just happened here?” Dean demanded with all his usual tact. “I thought the angels were all against Spencer's existence.”

“It would appear that Michael is of a different opinion than the rest.” Castiel answered him.

“And if Mikey’s all right with it, you best believe the rest will follow his lead.” Gabriel said cheerfully. He linked his arm through Spencer's and grinned at him. His wing reached out, curling around his son, and Spencer let himself sink down into the embrace. He couldn’t help his own smile.

There was so much that they all still had to talk about. So many things that had to be cleared up. Later, he would sit with them over a few drinks and tell them about falling, about landing in hell, and about how he’d followed the stories that his sister had told him until he’d found the place where this Hell linked to Hel. He’d talk about what had been weeks up here and years down there and the things that he’d had to do to get back home to them all. And they would tell him about their own time here while they’d waited. About how Gabriel had fought to try and find a way to keep his son safe. Gabriel would tell them about making the vessel from Michael as Coyote had once made his for him. They’d all share their stories and they’d enjoy being together, safe and happy, without the threat of the apocalypse hanging over them.

But for this moment, they stood in the yard of Singer’s Salvage and Spencer felt his heart fill as he looked around at these people, family by blood and family by choice. These were the people he had fought for, the people he’d been willing to die for. They were all here and they were all alive and right then, there was nothing else he could ask for.


End file.
